Hair like Snow, Veins of Fire
by Ser Gibbleworth
Summary: She woke up as a young child, never forgetting the hospital bed she had wasted away on, reading a Song of Ice and Fire series. Jaena swore she would use her knowledge to try and put a worthy soul on the Iron Throne, but little did she know that each unraveling of the timeline that she made, the more she'd have to become one of the primary players. - Reincarnation Insert -
1. An End to a Life

_Life_

The machine beeped idly beside her, a constant reminder that with each beep, her life was slowly ebbing away. Clean and sterile aromas followed by the din of the TV were all she had. The TV wasn't even the one in front of her. No, it was the other occupant of the room, sitting on the other side of the drawn curtain. Fortunately, she had gotten the window, but today it was raining. The sky was darkened and the water streaked against the glass, making it nigh on impossible to see out into the world that barely knew she existed and was dying.

Weak. So weak. She turned her head to look at the book resting beside a wilting set of tiger lilies. They had been brought by her father earlier in the week. But it was hard for any of them to look upon her in this state. She was barely more than an emaciated pile of skin drawn over bones. She was so weak. Too weak to even lift the book that was beside her. It was one of her favorites; A Dance With Dragons by George R.R. Martin. She had been hoping that maybe he would release another one of his books before she passed away so that she might know how the Song ended, but she feared she'd never find out.

She closed her eyes, let out a long exhale, and the beeping stopped.


	2. Cersei

_Cersei_

* * *

The mild air of King's Landing ran its fingers seductively through her long golden hair like the hands of her brother, Jaime. She leaned against the banister, letting the air comb by her and a briney blast of the sea sweeping up to meet her. It could have been worse, the fetid aromas from the city below gliding to greet her. It was why she had demanded her chambers face the ocean instead of the reeking cesspool below. Within the gilded walls of the Red Keep, one could almost forget that dirty peasants were follicking in their shitstained streets.

A resounding knock drew her from her daydreaming and a part of her wondered if Jaime had come to visit her that morning. Drawing herself up, Cersei prepared herself for whomever was on the other side of the oaken door, pushing her hair back and opening it herself. She loathed having servants do everything for her, including tend to her every whim as if she were as impudent as an infant.

When the door creaked open, she caught a glimpse of the young girl that she had taken an interest in. How queer the thought that Cersei would like any teenage girl. In fact, the idea was so laughable that Cersei had emptied a flagon of wine the first night after being introduced to the Velaryon. But Cersei was pleased, finding that there was a lot of herself in the 17 year old. This one was clever and if she could, Cersei would intertwine herself, manipulate the girl to think that they were steadfast, and use the girl's charm to earn secrets.

"Good morning, your grace," Jaena of House Velaryon greeted the queen in a silky voice, Her brilliant amethyst eyes flashed and pearly white hair rolled down the periwinkle gown that she was wearing. The girl was the epitome of High Valyrian blood and Cersei loved how keeping the child close made her husband squirm.

The Velaryons had done nothing wrong, even if they had supported the Targaryens in the war. This girl was born just at the beginning and had nothing to do with the strife that had splashed across the land. However, it didn't change the fact that she had the redeeming qualities of the Valyrians, not quite as inbred as many of the Targaryens were. Yet, through careful breeding with Lysene folk, the Velaryons had been quite adept at retaining their pale hair, skin, and violet eyes without the madness. If only the Targaryens had been so cunning, then maybe Cersei wouldn't be on the throne with the fat pig of a king.

"Good morning Lady Jaena... I believed our tea was set for afternoon after you had done some more etiquette training with Myrcella," Cersei remarked, not unkindly as the door was still open and the kingsguard posted right outside. She allowed the girl past her and turned, the door slid shut, her eyes sliding up and down as if demanding an answer without asking a question.

"That was the original arrangement. At least, until what I'd overheard. I expect that the bells will be tolling very soon once the word has gotten to King Robert, but few of us know... I'm a bit surprised that Maester Pycelle hasn't come to you yet, your grace," the winking of her brilliant eyes, the curve of her pale lips enticed Cersei to know more. She needed to know what Jaena knew.

However, Cersei was not one to throw herself for information. She arched her brow. "And how is it you acquired information before Maester Pycelle has come to deliver it unto me?"

"I was on an early ride. You know how I can never sleep until past sunrise? Well, I saw a rather interesting convoy on its way out of King's Landing and the one at the head... Oh, she was spewing quite a few profanities, some directed at me, as she's quite aware that I may have some favor with you, your grace," Jaena explained. The young lady was an accomplished rider, whereas the men of her family were talented seafarers. She hadn't been allowed to accompany them and so she'd learned a saddle better than any of the other Velaryon.

Before she could continue, there was a loud banging on the door, quite unlike the easy knock that had come from Jaena. Cersei, being the closer of the two, scowled and turned toward it to crack it open. Wondering just who had decided to fill in the missing pieces that the girl was still holding from her.

A thin old man with many heavy disks on a chain around his neck was puffing just outside her door. His beard was entangled in the links and his cheeks were splotchy from exertion. "Your grace," Pycelle wheezed. "Your grace, the Hand of the King is dead."

Now, Cersei had heard of the declining health of Jon Arryn. He was an older man, but he was so stubborn that this little stomach ache had been of little concern to her. In fact, Cersei had cared neither for if he lived or died. But now that he finally had croaked, it was more likely that Robert would finally allow her father to become Hand.

"Come in," she muttered in a low voice, letting the maester into the room as well, trying to glean more information on what had happened.

Maester Pycelle entered the chamber and drew his thin arms into the long dagged sleeves of his grey robes. He drew himself up, dignified, as if the presence of the Velaryon girl was a farce, someone beneath the Grand Maester such as himself.

Cersei simply rolled her eyes at him as he sputtered for words.

"Your grace is it wise to-"

"Lady Jaena was quicker on delivering word to my that Lysa Arryn has fled King's Landing than you, so yes, I do believe she deserves to be in here," Cersei retorted haughtily, striding toward a small table that had a flagon of Arbor gold sitting on it. She poured two glasses, watching as Pycelle licked his lips, the assumption of the wine going to him making a wry smirk twist her lips up cruelly. She offered it to Jaena, who in perfect form, graciously accepted it.

A flicker of amusement was visible beneath her long dark lashes as she gave a quick look toward the Grand Maester, as if daring him to ask for a glass as well.

"I'm certain that the Grand Maester must have been helping with late Lord Arryn this morning and only had a moment to step away and deliver this information unto you, your grace," Jaena offered, running her finger around the rim of the crystal chalice. "However, if I do recall, Lysa Arryn insisted that only Maester Colemon tend to the Hand. As if she didn't trust you."

The insinuation and the lack of excuse on Pycelle's part made Cersei turn her eyes toward him. "Where were you?"

"I was in my bed, roused after Lord Arryn's death just this morning," Pycelle blubbered, his cheeks becoming more blotched as he averted his eyes from Jaena.

Cersei knew from others that Pycelle had certain predelections that his pay as Grand Maester allowed him to fulfill. His eyes wandered from time to time and though he might have been happy to have either woman in the room, he wouldn't be foolish enough to ever make such a request.

"I believe it should also be noted, your grace, that Lysa Arryn was shouting gibberish, including that she believes her husband was poisoned. While I admit, Lord Arryn was old, he was very robust for his age. Not exactly the subject I'd expect to fall ill over the course of a night and keel over in the morning," Jaena pointed out.

Cersei had expected much of the same. She didn't particularly care, as she hadn't been the one to do it and doubted that anyone on the Lannister side had a reason to, but was somewhat glad that he was gone. Now she could convince Robert to make her father Hand and Cersei could take more liberty as opposed to meeting a fastidious wall when Jon Arryn disagreed with her suggestions. The council was no place for a woman they had claimed, spurned onward by Robert's belittling of her. Jon Arryn had thought little of her council and so she's disliked him for it.

"It is possible, but for what ambition I cannot say," Cersei remarked, contemplating who might have poisoned the old falcon. "You can go Pycelle," she waved a hand at him dismissively, done with his late delivery of news.

Maester Pycelle's face twitched slightly and his lips moved wordlessly before he snapped his mouth up and simply nodded. "Very well, your grace," he replied evenly before sliding out of the chambers and leaving Cersei with the Velaryon girl.

"I hear that you ride on your own when you go off in the morning. That's not quite safe for a lady of your standing," Cersei remarked, changing the subject as she gestured for Jaena to join her at the small table near the balcony. The news of Jon Arryn's death was just words on the wind, but there were more curious subjects that were alive and well that Cersei knew she could utilize. A dead man was no use of her.

Jaena took a seat and a smile curled onto her face. "Oh, well I don't go without protection. I... have a certain set of skills you see," and if by magic, replaced from beneath a billowing wave of silk, the girl produced a dagger was staggering dexterity. "Although this is all I carry while dressed as a lady. When I ride, I take a sword."

Cersei lifted the wine to her lips, the pale liquid sweet and tasting of crisp pears. Why would a girl of Jaena's age be unmarried. She had puzzled herself with that question. Additionally, why hadn't she been in court before her 16th name day? Driftmark was not far from King's Landing and yet, she had only just appeared in the court keenly aware of how to play the game. Thus far, Cersei had not been able to sense an ambition in her, almost as if everything the child did was because she was bored or liked to stir up trouble.

"And where does a young lady like yourself learn such skills? Or do you wear it just for show?" Cersei questioned.

"Oh, I assure you, your grace, that my skill is not a cheap parlor trick. If a man saw me with a sword, I doubt that would deter him much. But," she paused to take a gentle sip of her wine, "Driftmark is a stop for many wary ships on their way to King's Landing from exotic lands. One such ship harbored a woman from Leng who was traveling the world. She wore a sword and so I approached her. She agreed to teach me. She was named Kihara."

"It's not often we see Lengii or the YiTish. Stories of how rich Yi Ti is make Casterly Rock look pitiful," Cersei smirked to herself, thinking of the tale of exuberance she had heard of the country when she'd done her studying as a young girl. The richest of their people were said to live in houses of solid gold and eat sweetmeats with pearls and jade powdered over it. "So she trained you to fight?"

"Among other talents, though I did lose precious time here earning a spot in court."

Cersei snorted in spite of herself. "Yes, you seem to have lost all footing among the court."

"A spider may weave many webs, but mine will snare very few. Even if I've captured a butterfly, eventually I will finish that and starve," Jaena retorted, setting the wine glass on the table with a resounding clink. The dagger vanished as quickly as it had appeared. "I lost many things. My childhood, my innocence... But, I suppose you cannot have it all when you are a lady. You choose one or the other; the sword or family. You ostracize the other when you finally decide."

A pang of sympathy resounded within her, almost as if a child learning to fight was the same as Cersei losing her own innocence by the hand of a drunken Robert Baratheon. Even if the situations were different, there was an odd understanding betwixt them. "And I could utilize those talents if you're extending services."

"Extending? My services are yours when you require them, your grace," Jaena informed her effortlessly.

"We shall see about getting you more than just a butterfly in your web," Cersei paused, considering her words for a moment. "I want you to remain close. By day, continue your lessons with Myrcella. You may accompany me otherwise under the guise of a handmaiden... I do not require assistance, but a secret blade beside me is as powerful as my brother's known one. Jaime is not always beside me to protect me."

"As you wish, your grace," Jaena inclined her head respectfully, speaking gently.

However, Cersei was not placated by this. Each gesture and word that slipped from the girl's mouth was planned and poised, more thought out that she anticipated. "What is it you desire?" She knew what she desired. Power. Why would it not be the same with this waif? A woman would not pick a sword over wealth and prosperity unless it was power she sought.

"One day I hope I can retire to a beautiful keep with a family of my own. With my track record, I doubt that will be as achievable as it should be for a lady of my age. But, I suppose making allies of the queen might help me in my endeavors," Jaena responded.

Her answer was lackluster, polar to what Cersei had been expecting... What she was still expecting. In fact, Cersei wasn't convinced that Jaena was telling the truth. But it was difficult to tell with this one. The smile didn't falter, nor the amethyst gaze that seemed to pierce her soul. This one was dangerous, but Cersei had power, even more so now that Jon Arryn had died. Keep they friends close and thine enemies closer. Would this child be friend or foe? Even her outlandish skills taught to her by a Lengii would not be enough to stop the Kingsguard from apprehending her. For now, Cersei felt secure in her position with the girl. She could be used for now.


	3. Jaena I

_Jaena_

* * *

She hated them all. Everything about the gluttonous and jealous capitol, for the people they passed in the streets and showed no acknowledgement toward. To the old blind woman who was begging for rinds of bread to the orphan boy whose parents had died of dragonscale, there were so many stories and tales around them, and yet they sat so high upon their plinths that they never came down to try and comprehend the lives of others. Kihara had often preached that all men were created equal. A sword in the hand of a poor man was just as sharp as that in a noble's. Thrones were made of lies, unkempt by the original families that had earned them. Even Yi Ti had not been able to avoid the treacherous sin of greed and the brother of the Amethyst Empress killed her, ushering in the Long Night.

Jaena had remembered feeling useless, unable to do anything in the hospital bed. She had awoken in this world as a small child, a child who shouldn't have survived, but did. But she was armed with an immense amount of knowledge and with it, she knew she had to help the Seven Kingdoms in any shape or form that should. One would have thought that living in a medieval fantasy would be amazing, a dream come true, but Jaena had learned that the world was dangerous and cutthroat, not to mention she was belittled for being a woman. Nothing was certain, especially rights.

Her ambitions had seemed simple in theory, seeing that she had been given a second chance at life, there was no way that she would squander it. She had to do everything in her power to stop what she knew was to come. Jaena was a striking young lady, her appearance was enough to draw attention. Her posturing was enough to attract the attention of the queen. These leery conversations had edged on nearly a year before she'd earned the full attention of Cersei. Earning the supposed position as Cersei's handmaiden, but hidden blade, would have been an esteemed honor had Jaena been fond of the woman. In fact, Cersei was among one of the top blue bloods that she loathed so. The books could only portray so much, it was completely different seeing her in action first hand.

Cersei often displayed her power hungry and greedy qualities. She vied to be heard, to be taken seriously, to have more sway in politics. She had been thwarted by Jon Arryn until this point. In addition to her addiction to power, Cersei cared for no one other than her own family, solely including her children, brother Jaime, and father. Rather than loving all over her family, she picked and chose.

She would have the throne all to herself if assassinating Robert wouldn't draw so much attention. Cersei had alluded to such in private conversation, as if Jaena could do the deed without rousing suspicion. Jaena wasn't certain to what extent the queen thought her powers extended, but her talents were certainly not in subterfuge and poisons as Cersei suspected. Kihara had taught her many things; from riding in dense vegetation, tracking and hunting, forestry, how to obscure one self in an environment, how to fight, and how to lie.

But Jaena's lying wasn't for her own benefit. She had promised Kihara, that in exchange for training, that she would put a monarch on the throne that was just to the people. King Robert's reign was stagnant and overripe. Soon the fruit would fester. The Crown was borrowing too much money from the Lannisters, grievously tipping the scales to favor the cutthroat house. Even if Jaena did find a way to save him from getting gored by a pig, she would still have to deal with his lackadaisical ruling, which at this point had proven ineffective.

Jaena was hopeful for the journey to Winterfell. Thus far, she had been unimpressed by everyone in King's Landing. Their desires were basic and trivial. Most men defected to their most carnal desires and the streets reflected that by the thin silky dresses that were very nearly see through. Truly, there was only one trustworthy person in the entirety of the hellhole and she had been uncertain of him until Kihara promised his sanctity.

"You know you're only going to find cold stone castles and dubious peasants in the North," Varys remarked smoothly, hidden beneath a roughspun ensemble, his bald head hidden by a hood.

"I also suspect a considerable amount of honesty as well," Jaena added, her fingers tapping lightly against the hilt of her sword. She was also dressed to be unrecognizable. All black, gloves, a mask that was pulled over her nose, and a cowled hood that obscured her face.

"That honesty comes with a dose of naivety, If good men survived as kings, we wouldn't be in this situation," Varys pointed out.

"Perhaps one of those good men just needs a strong hand guiding them."

"Are you going to hold Eddard Stark's hand? Because I don't think that Lady Stark would think very kindly of that."

"Can old dogs learn new tricks? ... No, I've my mind set elsewhere. The future is in the youth." But where? If Eddard went to King's Landing then he would die. Robb would take up arms and eventually die too unless Jaena could find a way of steering him down a better path. Then there was Jon Snow and Theon Greyjoy to worry about. If she could prevent Theon from betraying Robb...

"Speak again dear? I'm so old that my hearing's failing and I don't know if you're suggesting the wolf boy or another northern lordling."

"Whoever impresses me the most."

"I think you're going to be disappointed with the North then. All men are the same, especially when approached by a pretty face," Varys sighed, shaking his head.

"That's why you're so pure then?"

"If only the world were ruled by eunuchs... Ah, but before I forget. Kihara had this delivered for you. She's in Lys right now," they came upon one of the deepest parts of the dungeon where the skulls of dragons were lined up. Varys stepped between the largest where a few barrels had been stacked and pulled out a small covered chest that was unremarkable.

Varys propped it open to reveal round stone that was a brilliant teal like house Velaryon.

Jaena reached forward and picked up, her fingers sweeping across the webbing of the stone. Strangely enough there was a warmth to the stone, as if a living creature thrived on the other side of the membrane. "Is this a petrified dragon egg?"

"I believe so. They're quite rare and expensive, but I suppose Lys would be the place to acquire one. Whoever retrieved these probably died shortly afterwards."

"Funny, she never quite understood that I'm not a Targaryen."

"You have the blood of Old Valyria. I think Kihara attributes you're descent from the Dragon Lords to this rather than the fact that your family are seafarers."

Jaena inspected it, the tiny grooves, and the pearlescent shimmer. She had a taste for the extravagant, her one true vice, and the petrified egg divulged her. Kihara hadn't just sent this because of how close they were, it was a prize for the progress she had made and motivation to keep working hard. It was an anchor in the choppy waters that she found herself in, worried constantly about being swept further out to sea or falling overboard. But as beautiful as it was, it was just a large trinket. Jaena was not Danaerys Targaryen and this egg would not hatch.

"That was thoughtful of her," Jaena's voice was slightly strangled as she closed the small box and tucked it beneath her arm. "I'll keep it with me when I go north... Speaking of which, do you have any connections that far?"

Varys motioned for them to resume their walk in the dungeon, his hands disappearing into his sleeves. "Very few."

* * *

Summer was still in full swing, bringing forth a gentle wind as the royal party began their march down the Kingsroad for Winterfell. At the notice that King Robert was to be acquiescing his old friend for Hand of the King, many of the tiny nobles that scurried around the court looking for niches to fill and favors to gain, leapt to join as an entourage. A group that could have merely been a dozen or two turned to thrice that and the pace at which they moved was utterly grueling. The wheelhouses which contained the queen and the royal children were stopped often so that they could stretch their legs and enjoy the day before they rode throughout the evening.

Jaena rode astride her own horse, unable to be stuffed inside the carriage for long amounts of time. Cersei had agreed that she was better suited on a horse, which Jaena was grateful for. She expected that Cersei also preferred the solitude among her own children rather than having the teen intrude on every aspect of her life. Jaena could read the queen well enough to know that the woman liked her privacy and some semblance of control. Even if she did enjoy verbal matches with Jaena, she wouldn't want them to be in front of her children, who she coddled.

To the royal children, Jaena was a lady of rapport. She had spent a good amount of time with Myrcella, giving her lessons in horseback riding and etiquette. These tasks had been assigned to Jaena over a Septa, as Cersei wasn't fond of the religious spittle that filled up her daughter's ears. Surely, Myrcella was well versed in the Faith of the Seven, but she had a proper lady to teach her how to act. Even if that proper lady now rode her horse with a sword strapped to the saddle. The princess was an innocent girl, sheltered desperately by her mother.

Tommen was also just as sheltered and had seen Jaena around enough that he was keen on her. She did not spend any time teaching Tommen, but the boy comprehended that she was liked by his mother and that Jaena was trustworthy.

In truth, these two children were good. Jaena thought that either of them might make good monarchs one day if Cersei wasn't pulling the strings. If only they weren't bastards, then perhaps there would have been more to work with, but Jaena doubted she would be able to stop Cersei from controlling Tommen and Myrcella if they ever came to gain the throne.

Joffrey was a spoilt brat that Jaena did her best to steer clear of. She greeted him accordingly, but would step away when the boy approached his mother. The prince would never seek out Myrcella and so Jaena only engaged with him when she was in the company of the queen and sometimes the other two royal children. In any case, there had been little effort made to knock Joffrey's bad habits from the start. He was ill tempered and cruel without a shred of tact. Everything Joffrey did was to appease his own desires. He would help no one unless he thought it might amuse him. Again, she knew he was bad from the books, but suffering his impudence in reality boiled her blood.

And akin to her other children, Cersei coddled him. Joffrey could do no wrong.

They were a week into their travels and were already north of Riverrun. They were expected to be passing east of the Twins soon.. Jaena was glad the Kingsroad did not go through the Twins, but that didn't mean that they wouldn't cross any Freys along the way. By now, the Freys had badgered her family so much about marrying of their many sons, that she knew it would resume when she got within the walls of the keep. There were so many damned Freys (a lot of which were named Walder) that she couldn't even recall which had been requesting her hand.

Her mother had told her "beggars can't be choosers" after being harried by the inquiries. Even if Jaena was a disappointment to her mother for having lost her maidenhood, her father was obstinate in the fact that his daughter would never marry a Frey. Jaena had always been thankful for her father, who had allowed Kihara to stay in Driftmark, who allowed Jaena to practice the sword, who allowed Jaena to be who she truly was... but it had caused a rift between the two of them and Jaena's mother. The only daughter and she had ruined herself, waited too long to get married, was no longer a maiden... But it was worth it to Jaena. She took no solace in sitting idly while people starved and were brutalized. Her empathy pushed her to strive for a better place, almost to the point of obsession.

"Lady Velaryon, can you even use that sword?" the voice broke her from her stormy thoughts, her eyes lifting from the road and turning to the mismatched eyes of Tyrion Lannister who was astride his own horse, sitting upon a saddle that had been crafted to properly seat him and his twisted, stunted legs.

Jaena's lips curved up as she glanced down at the hilt of the sword grooving up from her saddle. The hilt was wrapped in brilliant blue-green silk and fashioned in a Lengii style. She had not learned how to fight like a knight. She was too slender and slight. Kihara had taught her a Lengii form of swordfighting. "Oh no, it's just for show, my lord. I think it's working quite well, many of the more intrepid nobles accompanying us have steered clear of me thus far."

Tyrion chuckled at her, but his eyes remained on her, bright and curious. She had little opinion on Tyrion Lannister aside from what she could glean from the books. In the books, she had enjoyed his chapters and mindset, but he had yet to develop into that Tyrion yet and she had never spent much time around him. Cersei spurned him, so in keeping with getting close to the queen, she had not sought him out.. "I don't think it's the sword that's keeping them away... You've grown quite close to my dear sister."

"I am her handmaiden. I assist the queen with whatever she needs and I also teach Princess Myrcella," Jaena replied smoothly.

"Few people other than my brother and her children are close to her. Those who fancy themselves so don't live for very long," Tyrion warned, causing Jaena to break her countenance for a mere moment. The dwarf was quick, noticing the crease of her brows. "My dear sister loves to play games with people... As long as they're interesting and useful for her. I don't know how you're useful to her, Lady Velaryon, but perhaps it's the fact that you're certainly interesting that keeps her on her toes."

Jaena replaced her momentary lapse with a complacent smile. "And why is it you're so keen in warning me, my lord?" What did Tyrion gain from warning her? Jaena was very aware of how dangerous it was for her to play with a lion of Lannister. Her house was respected, but they were not a major house like the Lannisters. Did Tyrion think that Jaena would be quick to switch sides? To latch onto the first person that assured her safety and happiness? No, she was in this for the long haul.

"It would be a shame for something bad to happen to such a comely young lady... And I think you've piqued my own interest. My sister and I may not see eye to eye on many things, but perhaps we both can spot a wolf among sheep."

"I think you may be mistaken, my lord. I believe I am more like a fox among lions."

Tyrion snorted and settled back in his saddle. "A trickster then? Come now, I didn't take you for such."

"You do not know me, my lord," Jaena informed Tyrion.

"No, no I do not," Tyrion remarked thoughtfully. "But perhaps we shall be given the opportunity to become more acquainted on this abysmal journey. Most of the other ladies shirk away from me, it's quite refreshing to speak with a lady who isn't repulsed by me..." he paused before adding, "Or if you are, you're very good at hiding it."

The corner of her lip quirked before curving up in half a smirk. "Pretty faces lie, my lord. I care naught for appearances. They do not make a person."

"But they do make a person," Tyrion argued lightly, raising a finger at her before he launched to counter her. "Look at yourself. Each day this week you have been attentive enough to choose a different hairstyle, to manicure yourself better than half of the fools riding behind us, and to also remain clean. You're meticulous."

"But that is how I carry myself, not in my face. I was graced with a comely face, but while I may be manicured, I could say the same of you. The golden rings on your fingers," she gestured to the lion head ring on one of his index fingers, "The satin on that doublet, as well as the embroidering which no doubt cost considerably more than my gown... You regale yourself in very expensive attire, so I argue that my attention to detail in my own attire is quite on par with yourself."

"I would agree, but I've been wearing the same doublet all week," Tyrion boasted.

"Perhaps that's why the other ladies shirk away from you then," she suggested whimsically.

Tyrion broke out into laughter, as if his deformities weren't the cause of his ostracization. When he regained control of himself, he glanced back at her, just a keen as when he had first begun speaking with her. "Perhaps it's your wit that my sister prefers... Although, if it was wit she liked, she'd probably like me considerably more. No, there's more depth to you, even if you're unwilling to admit it."

"I'm not unwilling to admit it, I'm just unwilling to show all my colors," Jaena countered.

"Lady Velaryon, is Tyrion bothering you?" a snowy white cloak fluttered against the saddle of a pale stallion. Jaime Lannister's golden hair shimmered about his shoulders as he joined them, taking a break from guarding the wheelhouses that held the royal family.

Jaena had crossed Jaime on many occasions, but she had never truly been interested by him. He was a shallow character, not set to grow for some time, and seemed to take little interest in anything other than seeing over the protection of his twin sister. He had never spoken much when Jaena kept company with Cersei. Otherwise, Jaena was often dismissed upon his arrival. In which case she expected the two slept together, which was why she was sent away.

"Jaime, do you think that's a real sword over there?" Tyrion broke in, gesturing to the sword strapped to her saddle, coming full circle to where their conversation had begun.

She wished that Tyrion hadn't drawn the attention of Jaime. The knight was among, if not the best swordsman in all of Westeros. His scrutiny might be noted by others, especially if he pried, since she could not decline Jaime in fear that he mentioned her unwillingness to Cersei.

Jaime glanced at the hilt and then back up to Jaena. "It looks foreign... Perhaps YiTish?"

"Lengii," she corrected, albeit stiffly.

"Really?" Jaime's brows shot up, his interest clearly piqued. He had never seemed this interested in anything dealing with her up until this point. "Would you mind if I look at it?"

Jaena did mind. Removing the sword from its scabbard would draw the attention of others. She had strapped it to her saddle so that she could hide it as best she could, but now she might have well as strapped it to her waist. She stifled a sigh and nodded, reaching down to pull the curved blade up from the scabbard. The dark metal rippled in the summer light, the rays glancing off the burnished steel.

She turned the blade carefully and extended the hilt to Jaime so he could take it from her. The Kingsguard removed it gently from her hands and he ran his finger along the back of the blade. The back was not sharpened, as a katana had only one cutting surface. "Remarkable... the craftsmanship reminds me of Valryian steel," Jaime murmured.

"Leng has existed for much longer than Valyria. Yi Ti is said to have been in existence for thousands of years before Valyrians were even farmers. It's a shame they're so far, their craftsmanship is quite unlike anything on this side of the world," Jaena explained. "It is made from a steel called tamahagane. From what I understand, tamahagane has the least impurities contained within the ore, making it extremely valuable and one of the purest forms of steel. The Lengii are just as particular about making their swords as the Valryians... Only they still live."

"How did you acquire a sword like this?" Jaime asked her, turning the blade over and pressing his fingers against the flat of the blade to test the balance.

"A friend gifted it to me," it was not a lie, but they needn't anymore information on it.

"Someone would part with this so easily?"

"Not easily, but unlike Valyrian steel, it could be replaced."

"Why the curved blade? Are there any benefits to it?"

"It's very good at cutting. It is said that a katana can slice through steel and rend bone and flesh from the body with ease when the proper form is utilized with the blade..." Jaena broke out into a sheepish smile. "But I wouldn't know anything about that."

Jaime turned the sword back around so that Jaena could replace it back into its scabbard. Her fingers remained on the jade pommel for a moment, her thumb tracing the cherry blossom that was engraved. "Right, you know quite a bit about it, but wouldn't know anything about using it," Jaime mused.

"Dear brother, a lady of such rapport like Lady Velaryon wouldn't dabble in such unbefitting arts," Tyrion gasped, pretending to sound aghast at the sarcasm.

"Lady Velaryon came to the court at 16 years, a bit older than most promising maids. I'd say that she had enough time to learn how to use a sword. After all, I was only 15 when I became a knight of the Kingsguard," Jaime reminded him lightly, but there was a dark edge to his voice, as if he suspected Jaena of ill intentions. He did not possess the same amount of insight as Tyrion, but seemed to worry that Jaena's proximity to Cersei might be a danger.

However, in spite of his short sight, perhaps what he gleaned was the most intelligent of all of them. As far as Tyrion suspected, she would use her abilities to protect the queen, just as Cersei believed. And while it served her, she would. But when it did not, her blade would be quick to change and Jaime's gut instinct would be proven true. Her demure pretending wasn't enough to charm him, as he was only concerned for the safety of his family rather than playing this game of deceit and gilded words.

Jaena cursed internally as she came under Jaime's scrutiny. Where would this put her now? Jaime would mention this to Cersei and Cersei would ponder it. Months had been put into this rouse and it could all crumple like the rising tide beating at a sand castle. There were still weeks until they reached Winterfell and she hoped that Cersei would placate Jaime until she could plant herself among the northerners.

"And I am 17 with nothing to show for it aside from a pretty sword strapped to my saddle," Jaena eased, a simple gesture toward the weapon. "If I was more keen on using it, I think it'd be at my waist and I wouldn't be in a dress." Crossing Jaime Lannister would get her killed. She wasn't anywhere near confident enough in her skills to think she was a match for him.

Jaime's shoulders relaxed slightly, but Jaena knew that the battle hadn't been won. She hadn't noticed that his hand had gone to the pommel of his own sword and he flashed her a handsome smile. "Right... Well, if you were to ever strap that sword to a belt, I'd be interested in seeing how that blade is wielded," he said, putting his boots into his horse and pressing it forward so that he rejoined the other Kingsguard by the wheelhouse.

"Deftly averted," Tyrion commented with a wry smile. "Jaime is quick to suspect."

"And you're not?" she countered, feeling a few droplets of sweat trickle down the back of her neck. She hadn't realized she had become so nervous around Jaime.

"I won't say... but I'd rather ask questions than run a person through. A dead man... or lady, can speak no words," Tyrion told her insightfully. "But..." he declared. "If you want to play the part of an innocent handmaiden, perhaps strapping a sword to your horse wasn't the brightest tactic."

"It doesn't exactly fit in my saddle bags," Jaena sighed.

"And you were so worried that the strength of the Kingsguard and Lannister soldiers wouldn't be enough to protect us on the King's Road?"

"I try not to put my faith in those not slated to protect me. The Kingsguard has a duty to the royal family and the Lannister soldiers to the Lannisters," Jaena explained, but she had a feeling that some of her cover was blown. The sooner they got to Winterfell the better.

Even in the mild summer air, a chill swept through her, a dim reminder that winter would be coming. Her eyes listed forward to the long winding King's Road ahead of them and for a moment, she doubted herself. She was but one small person and just moments ago she had felt the fear of pushing the envelope. She might know the future of others, but she did not know her own and one wrong comment might get her killed.


	4. Jaena II

_Jaena_

* * *

"How many sons does Lord Walder have?" Jaena asked Myrcella. They had just passed north of the Twins and she wasn't disappointed that they'd missed the Freys. However, the princess still needed to be familiar with the noble families last night.

"Twenty-two?" Myrcella asked after chewing her lip for a moment.

"Correct," a sudden smile curved up the lips of the Velaryon. "What are their names?"

"We didn't go over that!" Myrcella squeaked, worry filling her eyes as they neared their destination.

"It's alright, I don't think I can even recall all their names. I would have been impressed if you could," Jaena mused, smiling at the princess as she calmed back down.

"How much further? I really want to see the North," Myrcella remarked, as if a splendid place was waiting for them just beyond the Trident.

"We're halfway to Winterfell and if we dally too long, who knows how much more time it'll take to finally get there." These words struck true to herself mostly. In truth she was a bit irritable with how long this was taking. The journey North was a long one, but it could have been cut down a third if people moved with haste instead of breaking for meals. Eating on a horse wasn't difficult.

"I wish I got to ride out here more often. It's very stuffy in the wheelhouse and Joffrey complains a lot," Myrcella sighed, glancing around at the pale blue sky that was devoid of any clouds. Jaena could only imagine the misery she was enduring listening to Joffrey lament about how long this was taking and how bored he was.

"It's safer for you inside the wheelhouse," Jaena reminded her, but Myrcella was given few breaks from her family. Only in the morning did she have lessons outside with Jaena while the convoy was stopped for breakfast.

"Why can't you join us? I bet it would be less boring with you with us. There's plenty of room. Father usually rides in his own wheelhouse," Myrcella said, rising at she thought she had come onto a bright idea.

Jaena hadn't the heart to tell her the reason her father rode in a wheelhouse separate was not because he was fat. No, Robert had his own wheelhouse with a few harlots he had brought from King's Landing. He doted on those women more than his own children and would come out for food and to make water. His horse was drawn alongside the wheelhouse, probably so he could ride it into Winterfell and make it seem as if he hadn't been lounging lazily the entire journey. Robert probably would have made the horse lame if he had ridden it all the way north.

"The wheelhouse is reserved for the royal family. I am comfortable on my own horse and I'm not foreign to long rides," Jaena replied kindly. "Now... It looks like we're all getting ready to go. You should go to rejoin your mother before she misses you."

Myrcella pouted, gathering the silks of her golden dress and climbing to her feet. "I'll talk to my mother," the girl promised, as if Jaena wanted to sit with them. She flounced off, her curls bobbing behind her and Jaena was left to throw the scraps into the nearest simpering cookfire. However, before she had risen, she noticed Ser Jaime leering at her from the wheelhouse. Had he been watching the entire time? Heat flooded to her ears and the back of her neck as she cleaned up and found her mare.

Ninwen let out a low huff as she placed her fingers against her muscular neck. Jaena, feeling as if she were still being watched, pressed her head to the flank and steadied herself. Jaime wanted her to balk, to seem off and more suspicious. She had to remain as forthcoming as possible, even if she felt nervous. In King's Landing she had occupied a lot of Cersei's time, intercepting the queen when she could. But Cersei was few and far in between, clearly stressed from the travel, and agitated by the behavior of her husband. There were no walls to obscure their talking and so Jaena was losing contact with Cersei. Whatever Jaime might mutter to her could already be working against her.

Just make it to Winterfell. Hopefully, the rapport is there, if not cut ties and drop anchor.

Mounting her horse, her fingers tightened around the reigns and she wondered how long the rest of the journey would take. At this point, it should only take a couple more weeks, but they acquired new riders each day and the more people there were on the Kingsroad, the slower they moved. Jaena was of half a mind to just ride ahead on her own, but her arrival at Winterfell wasn't as eagerly awaited as the royal party. She knew of the Starks only by the books and the show and to be honest, the show hadn't really gotten everything right.

People looked different. The Hound was younger and uglier,Tyrion wasn't handsome in the slightest, and even Jaime and Cersei were considerably more youthful and in the height of their primes. She expected that Ned was also going to be astonishingly young compared to Sean Bean. What was he… in his mid or late thirties? She was just a girl from a respected house in the south, she had nothing built here and if she rode ahead she didn't expect an overly gracious greeting.

Impatience would get her killed and she had worked too hard to develop connections and her abilities in this life. To think that she had been hooked up to a machine, unable to draw breath on her own. She had been gifted with the knowledge of this world so that she could steer it in the right direction, save those that were slated for death, perhaps even help them grow into better leaders.

But with each day slipping betwixt her fingers, Jaena's nerves were beginning to fray. She had no opportunity to speak with Cersei, to impress her, to ease her with silken words. Jaime also had little time alone with his twin sister, but he was clearly still dubious of her. Mile by mile, they drew closer to Winterfell and the summer heat ebbed away to be replaced with a climate that Jaena found much preferable. The last breath of summer in the North was mild, the grey sky constantly threatening to puff out snow, and the evenings were certainly frigid enough that a few flurries had been spotted here and there.

Most people complained about the sudden shift in weather, how inhospitable the North was, along with the natives who gave them sideways glances. They would work for their coin, but that didn't mean that they were keen on the southrons that had invaded their homes, blinding them with fantastical and whimsically colored clothing. And each day they moved, Jaena became quieter. Tyrion was really the only one who chose to speak with her. Clearly, he had been impressed with their first meeting and liked to probe her mind on simple musings.

One day it had been about the leather the peasants wore. Another day it had been about how many of the other nobles hadn't packed well enough for the chill nights. His small talk was all that kept Jaena from feeling alienated and worried. In King's Landing she had a firm grip of schedules, of where to place herself to be in the right spot at the right time, where to listen to the little birds chirping... Her knowledge of the books also gave her insight into the secrets of many, particularly Petyr Baelish, who she had done her damnedest to stay as far away from as possible. He was the one who had kickstarted all of this and she would not become a catspaw of his. Varys was also not keen on him and created a buffer for her when Baelish was around.

And then came the day that the Kingsroad led out of the woods and onto moors. These were not naturally occurring moors. Hills of green did not simply spring up between forests. No, the woods around Winterfell had been cleared within the square miles so that enemies could be seen approaching from a great distance. Due to how old the keep was, the hills had become filled with tall, verdant grass, a misty cap rolling over them.

Winterfell itself came into view shortly thereafter and Jaena's jaw nearly dropped. She had known from the books that it was one of the largest keeps in all of the Seven Kingdoms, however, what she had not known was by how much. The muddy looking garrison in the show was a joke compared to the two walls that mounted in front of them. The outermost wall was eighty feet high, rivalled by the one behind it that toppled 100. The Red Keep had seemed large, but was suddenly dwarfed by the several acres that Winterfell spanned. Tall towers jabbed into the sky, as if they were pointing through the clouds and into the heavens.

Now, the castle was not as ornate, but the slate was strong and the parapets long, on which guards patrolled. Mist rose from behind the walls, stoked by the natural springs that Winterfell had been built around. From the direction that they approached Winterfell, Jaena could not see it, but wintertown laid on the other side of the grounds where the Main Gate was situated. As they passed beneath the East Gate, Jaena spotted gargoyles acting as stern sentinels above, their snarling faces glaring at the royal party as they entered.

The Starks had saw them coming for miles, no doubt. Pooled within the courtyard they entered were the commoners in service to Eddard Stark. Standing flush in a line were the Starks in their ensemble of grey, just as solemn looking as expected. Horses parted to let through the wheelhouses that contained royalty and Jaena was ushered behind to where she couldn't quite see the Starks beginning to engage with the king as he got out of the carriage and exclaimed his excitement for seeing Eddard again.

Jaena knew how it went, he would remark on how beautiful Catelyn Stark was still and insist that they visit the Crypts immediately to pay homage to Lyanna Stark, whom a war had been waged over. So, instead of waiting for it all to play out, Jaena slithered down from her saddle and bent her knees, springing back up. Most attention had been devoted on watching the encounter, but people were beginning to wane in their interest and behind the wheelhouses, people could more freely.

"Hodor?" she was asked, a giant of a man stooping in front of her as she held the reins of Nimwen close. Hodor had a kind, round face. Even if he said only one wore, his paw like hands extended as he offered to take her horse from her.

"Thank you... Should I take my belongings?" Jaena asked him kindly. She knew he might not receive the same pleasantness from other nobles.

"Hodor," the man shook his head and began leading her pinto away from the courtyard and into a larger where folks were beginning to pour off, guiding weary steeds toward the stables.

Dogs bayed in the kennels at the new faces. This courtyard was much larger and displayed various buildings and towers. Jaena's head was craned so that she was admiring all the masonry around her. There was something refreshing about how clean the lines were and the lack of ornaments and accoutrements that had little purpose other than to look nice.

"My Lady Velaryon," a voice called, albeit breathlessly behind her as they scurried across the courtyard like a beetle. The courier's face was a bit pale. "Our grace, the queen, requests your immediate attention and assistance."

"Of course," Jaena nodded, glancing at her belongings. "Can you be certain that my things are put in whatever living arrangements I've been allowed? Nothing to be taken from the saddle bags, I will know if anything had been moved," she requested with a stern tone.

"As you request, my lady," the servant nodded and Jaena tossed one more look toward her saddle. She had wrapped her sword in a blanket since the encounter with Jaime, as if this would prove she had little intention of using it for anything. Not that she wasn't unarmed, she always kept a knife on her.

Still, leaving the gifts that Kihara had given her behind felt wrong and she began to worry as she swept across the courtyard to where she had left the royal party. King Robert was missing, undoubtedly in the crypts below despite Cersei's insistence on getting freshened up.

Cersei had done herself up as much as she could manage on the road, but she was clearly weary. Her cat green eyes swept toward Jaena as she approached, Catelyn Stark standing in front of her. There was almost a slight pleading in Cersei's eyes, as if she wanted Jaena to wrest her away from pleasantries and give her a moment to herself.

"Ah, here she is, Lady Jaena..." Cersei announced, drawing the attention to the young Velaryon.

"Yes, your grace," Jaena bowed her head respectfully to the queen and her children before devoting her attention to their host. "Lady Stark, it is a pleasure," Jaena inclined toward the woman, again taken aback by her youth.

Catelyn possessed vibrant auburn hair that rolled down her back in thick waves. There were few wrinkles creasing her features and her eyes were a bright and clear Tully blue. No wonder Petyr Baelish had tried to fight for her hand, she was certainly quite radiant. Flanking her were her children, the youngest among them standing awkwardly, as if they didn't know why they were still standing there.

Arya was uninterested, uncomfortable by the dress she had been forced into. Her brown hair was braided oddly and might have suited a girl with slighter features. It did not look good with her long face.

Rickon was kicking at the dirt, hands behind his back.

Bran was rapt, but his eyes had listed toward the parapets.

Sansa was very attentive, her Tully blues were sparkling with delight as she stood beaming beside her mother, a youthful reflection of Catelyn. She was tall for her age, but incredibly lovely. Her hair had been braided carefully and she was smiling coyly at the queen.

Robb was broad and stocky, his auburn curls tumbling slightly over his ears and the nape of his neck. He had a strong jaw like Eddard, but otherwise had much of his mother's features; the river blue eyes. His hair was a slightly deeper shade of auburn, the red catching in light here and there.

Jaena noticed he was staring at her with interest. But she was not unaccustomed to this. She possessed the traits of High Valyria and the North had not seen one of her breed for a very long time. Undoubtedly, the Stark children had only heard tales of the Valyrian beauties from history, but now Jaena stood before them. She might not be Targaryen, but she certainly looked like one. Her exotic features made her stand out among the grey of the North.

"And you must be Lady Jaena of House Velaryon," Catelyn said purposefully, glancing at Sansa as if the girl would know more on the house.

"Your sigil is a silver seahorse on a seagreen field, isn't it?" Sansa asked.

Jaena cracked a smile and nodded. "Yes, I'm surprised you know. Not many outside of the crownlands do," she applauded the girl, knowing that Sansa would drink the compliment in.

"Sansa has studied the houses of the Seven Kingdoms extensively," Catelyn informed her, but there was a quirk to her lips and a slight amusement to her tone.

"What an impressive young lady," Cersei broke in. "But if you mind excusing us, Lady Stark, we have had a long journey..."

"Of course," Catelyn inclined. "Let me show you to the chambers we have prepared for you."

"Thank you," Cersei murmured as Catelyn took head of their small formation.

Jaena did not know where Joffrey had gotten off to, but perhaps it was for the better. Strangely, she didn't think that Cersei would call upon her once they arrived to Winterfell, but she supposed it was to help with the children. Now that she was within the formidable walls, she breathed a sigh of relief. Now, finding a niche to fill would be the next task.

Catelyn led them to the guest house that had its back to the Godswood. The largest and most extravagant (for Winterfell) had been situated on the base floor for the royal family. This consisted of a few large rooms that adjoined one another. One for the king and queen, the eldest prince, and the two youngest. Jaena expected that Cersei would join her two youngest in their chamber and leave Robert to his own devices.

"I have arranged for your chambers to be across the hall, Lady Jaena, in the event that her grace needs any assistance," Catelyn told her as Cersei ushered her children into the middle chamber.

"Thank you, Lady Stark," Jaena told her appreciatively before joining the queen.

"Both of you will need bathing. We've been on that accursed road too long," Cersei sighed, staring at her two children with disdain.

"Your grace?"

"Can you help Myrcella? I will bathe Tommen in the other room. It appears as if the servants have delivered our trunks already," Cersei was still weary, holding the hand of her small pudgy son.

"Of course, your grace," Jaena replied before turning to Myrcella, her worst doubts swept away. If Jaime had gotten a word in, Cersei wouldn't have trusted Jaena to help prepare Myrcella in a chamber alone.

Myrcella, not unaccustomed to Jaena's help, allowed the Velaryon to unlace her gown. Being built on hot springs meant that hot water could be drafted from the pools below. Each room had a bronze tub and Jaena was able to fetch the exotics soaps they had brought from King's Landing to bathe the child with.

Humming to herself, Jaena drew the water and brushed through the princess's hair, untangling a few stubborn braids. "What do you think of Winterfell, your grace?" Jaena asked her as steaming water splashed beside them.

"It's colder than I thought... A bit... Drab too," Myrcella told her, glancing around the stone chamber. There were fur rugs and plush comforters on the bed, but that did not make up for the lack of paintings and tapestries. A fire roared in the hearth and despite the slight chill of outside, it could not be felt within.

"Winterfell is very old," Jaena informed her, not as disappointed with the enormous castle as the princess was.

"And big... but it doesn't have a city beneath it," a grin unfurled on the girl's face. "And it doesn't smell."

Jaena chuckled. King's Landing did smell quite bad outside the walls of the Red Keep. Myrcella didn't often travel outside of it's protection, but she had been exposed to the putrid stench on their way to Winterfell when they departed the city. "No, I suppose that's the benefit of no city at your gates. There we go, let's get you washed up too." Jaena helped the princess up into the tub after her attire had been removed. Picking up a sponge, she lathered it in water beside she began scrubbing the dirt from Myrcella's back. "What did you think of the Starks?"

Myrcella pondered for a moment about their brief meeting. "I think that the eldest daughter, Sansa, was very pretty. Although, I think he might be a bit immature for her age," she pointed out. Even if Myrcella was sheltered, she saw much more carnage beside her mother than Sansa had ever dreamed of. To the naive Stark girl, everyone was good and kind. She did not understand that the true nature of men was much crueller than the stories Old Nan told her. "They all seem nice, I suppose. The eldest, Robb, is quite handsome. But I hear he's just as stern as his lord father."

"Is being stern necessarily a bad thing?" Jaena chuckled, moving to put soap in her golden curls.

"If you're stern all the time it is!"

"I don't think Lord Stark is stern all the time," Jaena smiled. "Alright, down you go to wash," she placed her hand on the back of Myrcella's head and helped ease her down to wash the suds from her ringlets. Having gone without washing for so long, Myrcella pushed her feet against the other side and plunged her entire face under the water.

"What are you doing?!" a voice demanded, causing Jaena to jump.

"W-what?" she stammered, turning her head to see Jaime Lannister prowling toward her with vehemence. She had not even heard him entering.

Myrcella bobbed back to the surface of the water, but not before Jaime had strode across the chamber. The flash of metal caught Jaena by surprise, her wet hands slippery and undeft. The princess blinked the water from her eyes, trying to see what was going on as metal sang from its scabbard and Jaena stumbled back.

She only managed to glance the sword at the last moment. He had aimed right for her face. The knife flew from her fingers, her cheek stinging from where she had managed to divert the blow. Myrcella screamed and Jaena fell to the ground in a heap, the dagger clattering feet away. Jaime poised the tip of his sword's blade at her face.

"Uncle! Uncle no!" Myrcella shrieked, standing up in the bathtub.

The door to the adjoining chamber burst open and Cersei lumbered in, wide eyes and her hair flying wild. "What is going on?!" Her eyes went to Jaena who was nursing a cut hand and then to Jaime who had pointed the sword at her. "What are you doing?!" she hissed furiously.

"She was trying to drown Myrcella. I saw it-"

"No she wasn't!" Myrcella cried. "I went under water to wash my face, uncle! She was holding underneath my head so I wouldn't go under too far!"

"Cersei this girl is a danger. Look! She had a knife on her!" he gestured to the discarded blade.

"I know that!" Cersei snarled. "Sometimes you're quite daft, you know that, right? You think with your sword not your head... Jaena, go clean up your wounds-"

"But Princess Myrcella..." Jaena breathed through chattering teeth.

"Myrcella can finish getting ready herself. Jaime," absolute fury overcame the features of the queen. "I need to speak with you."

Jaime faltered before drawing his sword back, sliding it back into its scabbard and tossing one more glare in Jaena's direction before he skulked to the side beside his twin. She did not know what he thought he had witnessed, but that bout had been too close for comfort. Having been dismissed, Jaena fled the room as quickly as she could. She cradled her injured hand close to her and lifted her hand to inspect the damage. The wound was superficial on the outside of her hand, but cut deeper into the flesh just outside her palm. She would need to see a maester for this.

She was hoping to simply find a servant who could point her in the right direction of the tower, but was dismayed when she nearly ran into Catelyn Stark. This had been one of the last people she had wanted to encounter... Right? The shock on the woman's face was clear as she caught sight of the bleeding scratch on Jaena's face and then the injured hand she was nursing.

"Lady Jaena! What happened?" Catelyn asked, leaning forward to place a hand on her shoulder, another coming round to gently peel back her hand to see the damage.

A plan unraveled in front of Jaena and she knew she had to take it if she wanted safety at Winterfell. Jaena glanced around desperately, as if she were worried someone was following them. "I cannot speak about it here," she murmured to Catelyn.

Catelyn's eyes widened and she nodded swiftly, ushering Jaena along with her down through the hall of the guest building. She opened the door to a small service room and then looked at her expectantly. "Who did this to you? You were with the queen, no?"

Jaena nodded mutely, letting the silence hang heavy on the air.

"Did the queen-"

"No, it was her brother, Ser Jaime..." Jaena's voice trembled as she spoke, which wasn't entirely a facade. For a moment, she thought that Jaime was going to run her through. "I don't know why, but ever since I've become the handmaiden to the queen, he's been suspicious of me. Perhaps because my family supported the Targaryens, maybe he thinks we still bear ill will toward the Baratheons but..." she trailed off, Catelyn holding her breath on these words. "I was helping Princess Myrcella bathe and when she went down to wash her hair, Ser Jaime thought I was drowning her," Jaena choked on the sentence and shuddered.

"What?" Catelyn hissed.

"The queen rushed in and Myrcella told him I hadn't done anything to her. He nearly killed me, he had run at me with his sword drawn and I managed to evade him, but just barely," she gestured to her injuries before her eyes widened. "B-but you can't say anything. I'm scared of what the queen might do if, especially if Jaime does convince her I'm a danger simply because of my lineage... I've always been loyal but... but... all the handmaidens before me have never survived long. I just thought I was more suited for the task."

Catelyn drank in Jaena's words, nodding slowly, as if she had sense something off with Cersei from the moment she had arrived. "Lady Jaena... we're going to get you tended to.," she assured her.

"I'll have to go back," Jaena whispered. "And what then? Next time Ser Jaime might not miss..."

"As long as you are in Winterfell, I shall not stand for it, and neither will my husband. Consider yourself under my protection," Catelyn declared, straightening her posture.

"And if the queen summons me?" Jaena asked lamely.

"How old are you Lady Jaena?"

"Seventeen, my lady."

"You are of a similar age as my eldest son. Queen Cersei will not pull you from Robb if he wishes to give you attention while you are here at Winterfell, seeing as we are the hosts. And when the time comes, we shall find a safe way to send you back to Driftmark"

"My lady... you are so kind, but... you barely know me. Why are you helping me?"

Catelyn's eyes flashed, a semblance of pride buried within them as she stood tall. "Because, it is the right thing to do. You do not deserve to be ran at with a sword for something you didn't do. The Kingslayer's reputation is ill and I wouldn't doubt he'd try again if given the chance. I will speak with my lord husband about your wellbeing, but for now... Let's go find Maester Luwin to clean you up."

"And my chambers-"

"I'll have them moved," Catelyn promised. "Now, wrap your hand up in this. We do not want to draw a lot of attention." She produced a handkerchief from her cloak and dabbed Jaena's face before handing it to her. The blood soaked through the cloth as she applied pressure to the wound.

Catelyn and Jaena exited the supply closet and hurried out of the guest hall. The chilled air stung at the cut on her cheek. She could feel the pounding in her hand, more aware of the pain as the adrenaline was beginning to fade. She kept her hand drawn up to it was hidden in her sleeve and her hair toward her face where she had been glanced.

Catelyn steered her toward a turret, which had a revolving staircase. By the time they reached the top, Jaena felt a bit winded, probably from the blood she had lost until that point. Within the circular turret room was a small grey man with grey eyes and thinning hair. He glanced over at them, tugging on the maester's chain around his neck that was more like a choker.

"What has happened here?" Maester Luwin asked as Jaena withdrew her injured hand from her sleeve.

Jaena glanced over at Catelyn nervously, wondering if she would tell Luwin.

"The first bit of damage incurred by the royal family," Catelyn said dryly as she steered Jaena into a seat. "The Kingslayer went for her while she was helping the princess bathe."

Maester Lewin's heavy brows went up slightly, but he did not question it much further. Catelyn's clear ilk toward the royal family was somewhat astonishing. Perhaps because she was irritated that they had traveled so far to try and take Eddard away from her... No, it was because Catelyn was already suspicious. Wouldn't Cat have gotten the letter from Lysa by now?

"Let me see your hand," Maester Lewin requested.

Jaena extended it, revealing the wound beneath the cloth.

"Ah, not too deep around the top, but it'll require some stitches around the palm... Thankfully, it doesn't appear as if your muscles were damaged," he observed before going over to the table to create a poultice to clean the wound. He returned with the salve and a needle with black wire. "It will numb a bit with this, but you'll be wanting this-" he offered her a leather strap.

"I won't need it," Jaena said, shaking her head.

"No? Men much larger than you have screamed from getting stitches," Lewin remarked.

"Then it's a good thing I'm a woman. We do tend to have a higher tolerance for pain," Jaena retorted, catching an approving smirk from Catelyn beside her.

"Very well, but I did warn you my lady."

Jaena nodded and closed her eyes. She drew in a deep breath as Lewin dabbed away the blood, cleaning the wound before he applied the salve. She imagined herself elsewhere, on the rocky shores of Driftmark. She imagined the salt and brine in her pale hair and the wind combing its fingers through it. She could hear the waves roaring like dragons as they smashed against the rocks and the spray flecked her face. This was her zen, her place she envisioned when she meditated. It had been a while since she had gotten to meditate properly, since being on the Kingsroad with so many others hadn't quite given her an opportunity for true solitude.

There were many lessons that Kihara had taught her as she had been recovering as a child, those on how to slip away from the physical body and relax only within the mind. She stayed there while Lewin worked, unflinching and unmoved by the needle that pierced her flesh.

When he finished, the spell of her meditation was broken by him clearing his throat. Jaena blinked open her pale violet eyes and gazed intently at him. She couldn't tell if he were impressed or perturbed. "I underestimated you."

"Many do," Jaena told him with a faint smile.

"Let me clean your face up as well. It's just a scratch, but I'll dab it this to stop it from bleeding," he had a clear liquid with him which he tapped on her cheek.

"Where did Lady Catelyn go?"

"I believe she went to make better living arrangements for you while I stitched you up. Just wait here until she comes to fetch you," Lewin said dismissively.

"Very well... Thank you maester."

Lewin nodded. "It's my job."

"Doesn't make your work any less valuable. I do appreciate it," Jaena insisted.

Lewin turned slightly and she wondered what he was thinking. He was one of the more perceptive ones in Winterfell. If she could impress him, then he would not speak of his doubt to either Lord or Lady of Winterfell. Catelyn trusted his council.

Jaena glanced around the tower, observing the various vials and oddments that were perched in cubbies and shelves. How strange this medicine was compared to the sterile hospitals that she'd known in her past life. Here she witnessed Luwin making it, but in the hospital most drugs were clear and she rarely knew what they were giving her unless they told her.

Catelyn returned within a half an hour. "Lady Jaena, you look a bit better."

"As good as I can with a bandage," Jaena smiled, waving the wounded hand.

Catelyn gave her a halfhearted smile. "You must be tired,"

Jaena nodded and stood up from the seat as Catelyn led her from out of the maester's turret.


	5. Robb I

_Robb_

* * *

They had been preparing Winterfell for weeks before the arrival of the royal party. Robb had done his part, stepping up as the eldest child and son of the Stark family. Until now Robb had done much of what he wanted, which consisted of sparring, training, daily lessons, and spending his off time with his siblings or Theon. Technically, he was a man fully grown, and he needed to begin acting that way. One day he would inherit Winterfell, though he hoped such a time would not be in the foreseeable future.

In the weeks leading up, Robb had shadowed his father, helping with the daily tasks of a lord. His father was very hands on, perhaps more than other lords cared or bothered to be. His attentiveness and care for his subjects was why they were so loyal to him. Eddard treated them with respect and would have a different subject sit beside him each evening for dinner, so they he could try and glimpse into their lives and assess what he might do differently. Robb admired his father and strove to be like him. If he could even be half the man, Robb would have felt as if he'd done something right with his life.

When the royal party arrived, Robb took his post beside his mother and went through the cordial greetings with the king. He noticed that the queen hung back with her children, imploring that they get some rest after the long journey. However, Robert was very insistent on starting in the crypts. It didn't take a genius to see the tension in the air.

When his father and King Robert had departed for the crypts, his mother approached the queen. The Stark children flanked her, having not been dismissed yet. An air of curiosity formed over some of them, but the young and strapping Prince Joffrey had already slipped away much to Sansa's dismay. However, Robb noticed how his sister beamed at the queen and princess, wishing that she could hope to possess even a fraction of their grace.

Robb didn't know why she was so impressed with them, but he did find amusement in his sister's infatuation. Queen Cersei was proclaimed the most beautiful woman in all of the Seven Kingdoms. She was slightly younger than his own mother, but Robb thought there was something beneath her smooth face and cat green eyes that made him think otherwise.

It was when a young lady approached that Robb reconsidered the title of the most beautiful woman in the Seven Kingdoms. He had heard of the Valyrian beauty of the Targaryens in stories told by Old Nan. Standing in front of him was a lean and slender lady, her pale ivory hair rolling down her back in billowing waves. Her face was heart shaped and fair, freckles spanning her nose and upper cheekbones. Her amethyst eyes were framed by dark lashes and brows and her lips seemed to curve up into a mischievous, but well mannered smirk subconsciously.

Lady Velaryon, not a Targaryen, and yet she had the blood of Old Valyria. He couldn't help but stare, drawn in by her exotic features as she shimmered beside the queen who was golden... Yet, even in her golden radiance, Robb found that he much preferred the friendly demeanor of Lady Velaryon to the queen. And before he'd been given the chance for a proper greeting, she and the royal family slipped away to freshen up.

Catelyn left her children behind and now that the arrival was winding down, he knew that many of the weary travelers were going to freshen up for the grand feast that evening. His mother had slaved for the weeks leading up to make certain that everything was perfect. From the floral arrangements made of local flora, to the acquiring of enough game to feed the massive amount of guests.

"Do you think mom will want us for anything else?" Arya asked, picking at the bodice of the dress that was quite tight on her.

"Not until the feast, I expect," Robb told her, glancing across the courtyard and to the adjoining on in hopes of catching another glimpse of the Velaryon.

"Good," Arya snorted and began off on her own.

Rickon and Bran both gave him looks, as if imploring if they could also go off on their own. He smiled at them and nodded. Rickon darted for the kennels where the dire wolves had been put for the afternoon. Their mother had expressed worry in exposing the wolves to so many people at once and put them away. Robb liked it no more than the rest, but obliged to keep his mother's anxiety levels down. The wolves would be fine in the kennels for part of the day. They were still growing and small enough to be kept behind the bars of the kennel cages.

Seeking his own temporary reprieve, Robb set off to find Jon and Theon, who were standing off on the other side of the courtyard observing the exchange. He always wished that Jon could stand among them, but knew that his mother would never allow it. It was not Jon's fault that he had been born a bastard and yet he was always shoved into the shadows. By now, Jon was getting tired of it, and Robb already knew of his plans to implore their Uncle Benjen to take him to become a Brother.

Robb didn't want to see him go, but perhaps being away from Catelyn would be more fulfilling for Jon. They all had to grow up one day and Jon had made his decision. Robb just wished it didn't mean they'd be so far from one another.

"So the stories about the queen were true, huh?" Theon asked, cocking a smirk as Robb approached the two of them.

Jon glanced at him reproachfully, as if speaking of the queen like that was disgusting. For Theon, it certainly was quite mild. There were several lines the Greyjoy could pass and this was quite tame.

"I thought her handmaiden was very comely," Robb admitted, wondering if either of them had really gotten the chance to see her.

"What handmaiden?" Theon's brow furrowed.

"Lady Velaryon. She had white hair, a bit difficult to miss," Robb pointed out.

"Oh, that was a young lady?" Theon mused. "From behind I only saw the white hair, so I assumed she was much older."

"White hair? Is she related to the Targaryens?" Jon asked.

"I believe the Velaryons are also High Valyrian, from the crownlands," Robb was mostly reciting what he had just heard from Sansa. In truth, he wasn't as read up on the houses south of the Riverlands. Now he wished he was, so that he might have some sort of hope in impressing the girl at a later time.

Theon was perceptive and arched his brow. "You seem quite taken with her," he mused. "Odd for you." He was referencing the times that he had made lewd comments about women and Robb had never been enticed to join in. Even when Theon had brought him to a brothel to try and enjoy the sweet taste of a woman, Robb had found himself unable to perform. Not because he was inept, but rather he felt nothing. How could he sleep with a woman he felt nothing for?

Theon had poked fun at him, since he was a regular to the brother in wintertown, but he hit the nail on the head. Robb had never been impressed by any lady and he'd met quite a few daughters from the lords that beckoned to his father. But Robb knew he was just attracted to Lady Velaryon merely based on appearance and the brief moment he'd experienced her demeanor. He wouldn't chalk this up to anything now, but he did want to get more time with her to see just what she was like. It didn't matter in the long run, she'd return south with the rest of the royal party.

"I didn't get a good look at her either, but she must be something if she's caught your eye," Jon joined in poking fun at him.

"You'll have to see for yourself," Robb smirked wryly, trying not to feel a bit embarrassed by their jests.

"Well, seeing that we probably won't get to look upon her until later this evening, what should we do until then?" Theon asked. He grew bored often, always needing to be doing something. "We could go into wintertown for a bit-"

"No," Jon and Robb said in unison, understanding where Theon was going with wintertown.

Theon pouted slightly, but his eyes were bright is mischief.

"Maybe a bit of practice in the yard?" Jon suggested.

"Between the two of you perhaps. My mother will kill me if she sees me sparring in this," Robb gestured to his dark leather and fur trimmed cloak. He was still dressed up for the formal meeting with the royal family and sparring would make him sweaty.

"I wouldn't mind sparring," Jon shrugged.

He had been excluded from the family, his father's shame. He, no doubt, had a good bit of steam that needed blowing off. Robb smiled sympathetically at his half-brother, but Jon didn't seem to notice. That or he was ignoring Robb.

The three crossed to where the armory was and Jon and Theon retrieved practice swords. This would only go one way. Among the three of them, Jon had always been the most talented. Theon had more skill with a bow than he did with a sword, but it didn't stop him from trying to get the better of the two of them. Their bouts were all friendly, for gaining experience... Although, with how many times they had all sparred, patterns could be recognized.

Robb leaned against a pillar and watched as Theon and Jon took position. Circling one another, Jon waited patiently for Theon to make the first move. The Greyjoy was notorious for his inability to wait and always made the first move. Just as expected, Theon lunged, but this was a test blow. Jon averted it easily, sweeping the blow aside. Theon battered again, this time hailing a flurry of blows upon Jon.

None of them were committed to hard, as Jon parried and turned them. Many would expect that Theon might eventually tire, but he was seeking an opening in Jon's defenses.

"Robb," his mother's voice hissed as he observed the fight.

Robb, unable to tear his eyes aware, craned his head slightly in the direction he had heard the voice come from. "Yes?"

"Robb I need your assistance right now," Catelyn growled, finally garnering his devoted attention.

Robb finally looked at her, noticing that his mother was staring at him with a stern expression. He wondered if he had done something wrong or if there was more he could do that he'd not thought off. "What is it?" his voice eased.

"Come with me please," his mother requested, drawing him away from the spar.

Reluctantly, Robb stood up straight and followed Catelyn into the armory. It was quiet that day, most of the workers who did not prepare food or clean, had been given the day off. His mother looked around, making certain that they were alone before she decided to speak.

"I'm going to need you to do something for the next few days," Catelyn began mysteriously.

"While the royal family is here?" Robb observed.

"Yes, precisely when they're here," Catelyn said, her voice dropping. "I need you to spend time with Lady Jaena. I know it's not preferential, but spend the entire days with her as if you were courting her. You will escort her to the feast and seat her with Theon. Do you understand?"

His mother was very serious about this, but Robb couldn't understand why. Nor did he really think it was a chore to have to be around Lady Jaena. In fact, she was quite pleased by the task he had been handed. Now he could be around Lady Jaena and his mother had given him permission to make it look like courting. Would he simply make it look like that? Robb partially wanted to test the waters with Lady Jaena, to see if he could impress her.

"Try not to look too excited. Eventually, Lady Jaena will need to go back to Driftmark," Catelyn said, noticing Robb's shift in countenance.

"What happened that you're asking me to do this?"

Again, his mother glanced around, but this time she took a step toward him and whispered in his ear. "She was attacked by Ser Jaime Lannister. I do not intend to send her back with the royal party to King's Landing."

Robb's mouth dried, wondering why the Kingslayer would even touch a hair upon the Velaryon's pretty head. He felt oddly enraged by this. "How severely?"

"She will be fine, but she was shaken up," Catelyn sighed, stepping back and shaking her head.

"I will look after her," Robb promised.

Catelyn smiled at him tentatively. "Try not to get too attached to her, Robb. She cannot stay here."

"I won't," he said, but he could feel the dishonesty behind the heat of his words. He was already taken by her appearance wise... Part of him just hoped that he wouldn't be taken with her personally or it'd make her departure more difficult. "Do you think I can let the wolves out now? You know how they hate being penned up."

Catelyn let out a long and low breath of air. She was nervous about the wolves, though each of the Stark children (aside from Rickon) had worked hard at training their pets. "Well... I don't see why not. Just make certain Rickon's wolf stays under control. I know the others are well mannered. If they get out of hand, they'll be put in the Godswood."

"Understood," Robb said.

Cateln gave him a wistful smile, reaching forward to pat his face, which hadn't been shaved in a few days. "You're all grown up now, aren't you?" she murmured, as if seeing that he was a man grown for the first time.

"It's almost as if you forget I'm 19 sometimes," Robb mused with a gentle smile.

"Sometimes," Catelyn smirked. "I still see the little boy who was only waist high."

Robb reached forward and hugged his mother, she seemed oddly stressed. But it wasn't due to the royal family being here. Perhaps there was more to this altercation with Jaena Velaryon than he knew, but it was difficult to know unless his mother denigned what was in her head.

They broke away and Robb went for the kennels. The wolves had been penned up, seeing they were the same size as the hounds now. Upon noticing that a Stark had arrived, the wolves got up from the dirt floors they were laying on, plush tails wagging back and forth as he began opening the kennels.

He knew the wolves would all go find their respective partners. Grey Wind pattered out, his smoke grey fur ruffling, yellow eyes listing up toward Robb. A deep understanding reflected between man and wolf. Robb bent down and ran his fingers through the fur along his wolf's head before turning around. The other hounds bayed and barked, also wishing to be released, but Robb left with his wolf.

He drew in a deep breath, wondering just how many more hours it would be before he could approach Lady Jaena... The feast was the marker time, wasn't it? Until then he expected she was getting prepared and resting. Robb felt a bit restless himself, pushing his fingers back through his curls, suddenly wondering if he should reassess what he was wearing.

* * *

The chambers arranged for Lady Jaena had been moved to to the Great Keep, not too far from the rest of the Stark rooms. Robb pulled at the strap of his cloak and Grey Wind pressed against the palm of his hanging hand. The dire wolf glanced up at him, yellow eyes curious as to why his master was nervous. Robb's fingers scratched behind his ear and he let out the breath he had been holding before raising his hand to knock on the door.

There was a bit of shuffling on the other side and the door opened to reveal the lovely lady of Driftmark. Her long hair rippled down to her waist like ocean waves, a few silken pieces pulled away from her face and clipped with a silver seahorse pin. Her lavender irises fluttered beneath her dark lashes, fox-line and slanted. However, her porcelain features were marked by a red line that cut across her cheek.

She wore a dress of pale misty violet, similar to the hue of her eyes. The silk was light and shimmered ethereally, hugging her slender and lean bodice. She didn't not have a large bosom, but her physique was still impressive for a woman; small waisted and slim. Beneath one of the wide sleeves he caught the flicker of a bandage, but she was clearly nursing it and trying to hide it.

"Lady Velaryon?" Robb greeted cordially, extending an arm to her.

"Lady Jaena is fine, my lord," she informed him, reaching out with her left hand, which was not injured.

"Then Robb is suitable for me," he assured her.

"Ah, I'm not certain if I can oblige. You are the heir to Winterfell, thus certain titles must be afforded," she said, gliding beside him, her lips curving up mischievously, which seemed to be a subconscious quirk of the Lady of Driftmark.

Robb chuckled at her. "How are you feeling?"

"I have been better," she jested wryly, a cynical expression twisting her features.

Robb wanted to ask what had happened, but he knew it wasn't his place. He was but a stranger to Jaena. "If you need anything in the coming days, please let me know. You are under the care of the Starks," he assured her.

Jaena glanced up at him, her eyes striking and lovely. He could imagine what it must have been like for those of the Seven Kingdoms to be conquered by a face like that sitting astride a dragon. "Thank you," she murmured, by that point they had exited the Great Keep. Night have fallen over Winterfell, the chill of the end of summer sweeping in. Lady Jaena drew in her cloak. "The weather here reminds me... Reminds me..." she trailed off, her eyes lifted toward the sky before she went quiet.

"Like?" Robb pressed gently.

Jaena pondered her words. "A dream," she finished.

"How cold does it get in Driftmark?"

"It depends on the weather. The winds can blow cold winds in a storm, but being so farh south it's uncommon that it gets this cold this early during the day. I suspect the winter will be frigid with all the ocean winds battering the island," Jaena answered. "But I suppose it's nothing compared to how cold it gets here."

"Do you mind the cold?"

"No, not really, but maybe I have experienced true cold," she suggested. "Is this Grey Wind?" Jaena gestured to the wold beside him.

The wolf perked up at the sound of his name. "Yes... You've heard of him?"

"And how the Stark children all have a direwolf? Yes, I heard of it along the Kingsroad," she smiled, turning to look at the wolf that unnerved so many. "Can I pet him?"

"If you'd like," Robb said, watching as she lifted her arm and stopped in front of the wolf. She crouched down so that she was on level with the wolf, which impressed him. Most feared the direwolves and how swiftly they were growing. By now they had proven adept hunters and ravenous eaters. Their teeth were sharp.

Jaena observed the wolf before she placed her hand on his head, her good hand running through Grey Wind's fur. There wasn't a sliver of fear reflected in her eyes, despite the fact that Grey Wind's muzzle was just feet away from her. He could have ripped her lovely face right off had he wanted to. But instead, the wolf enjoyed the attention she was giving him. She scratched around his ear and watched as his hind leg twitched slightly in enjoyment.

After a few moments, she stood back up, scratching the wolf beneath his chin before smiling up at Robb. "I didn't think his fur would be so soft."

"Still puppy fur, the denser coat is growing in now," Robb told her, Grey Wind eyeing her as she stopped petting him. "Do you handle hounds back in Driftmark?"

"Hm? No, just my horse. I've always been fond of animals," Jaena said. "Unlike humans, they're so innocent. We train them to be loyal and they love us, unable to understand treachery. Even a hound will return to its master, even if the master beats it and abandons it. Often, I don't think we deserve such love with all the war and strife... The poor animals always get caught in between. I take solace in treating them all with kindness. Grey Wind is very well mannered."

Robb had never taken the time to really contemplate the position of animals in the world. They were subservient, bred and trained to be that way. But it was true, horses died in battle, despite the fear they felt, they charged to their deaths. Hounds were also maimed or killed in hunting more dangerous game.

"Thank you. You seem like a very compassionate person," he remarked.

"In some areas," she smirked, taking his arm again.

"Only some?" he arched a brow at her.

"Yes, Lord Robb. Don't let a pretty face demolish your defenses," she warned him. "It's a lesson you'd do well to take with you. Things are rarely black and white. Myself for example..." she lifted her injured hand. "This is a defensive wound. It would have been much worse had I not been carrying a dagger with me."

Robb's good natured smile faltered as they walked. He had seen a pretty lady, but suddenly the thought of a conqueror returned. Somehow, he didn't find it so queer that she had been carrying a weapon with her. The world was not as pure as Sansa liked to believe and a woman such as Jaena had probably been a victim of unwelcome advances. King's Landing was supposedly a viper's pit. "Are you carrying one now?" he wondered.

Jaena's lips curved into a delicate, yet dangerous smile. "They tell a lady that your best armor is your courtesy. Where would that have gotten me today? I expect a sword through my heart and we wouldn't be walking to the feast this evening."

"You won't have to defend yourself under our protection," Robb insisted.

"I've learned that the only person I can truly rely on is myself. That is not to say that I don't believe you... but you can't be watching all the time, it's impossible," Jaena remarked clearly. "King's Landing was never truly a safe place for me. There's still too much prejudice with those of High Valyrian blood."

"You're not even a Targaryen," Robb frowned.

"Looking like one is enough for some. The Velaryons were also on the opposite side of the war from the King and your father. Not even the fact that I was merely a baby changes anything. 15 years later and I'm still scrutinized for every move I make," she sighed, shaking her head.

"My father once told me not to prosecute a man for the actions of his family. Your family was forgiven, were they not?"

"A grudging forgiveness. One might say that one was barely given. The Velaryons were allowed to keep Driftmark. If King Robert had killed all those on the other side, half of Westeros's noble families would have been slaughtered... And he did not wish to become what he had just seen an end to," they had now come upon the entrance to the Great Hall.

Now, Robb would have to part ways with her, despite finally being given the first chance to glean more of her personality. To say he was intrigued was an understatement. The Valyrian lady beside him was box of intricacies, exotic and knowledgeable. He wanted to experience other conversations, but for now he had to cut their time together short. A lady who guarded herself with a dagger... What would have happened if Jaime Lannister had managed to kill her? If she truly was treasonous, the queen would have seen her hanged already, but her escape meant she had done nothing wrong.

With a gentle sigh, he escorted her into the hall, which was already brimming with other patrons. Many were of his father's own bannermen that had arrived to welcome the king and queen. None could call in recent history when the royal party had last been seen north of the Twins. Thus, this was a rather momentous occasion.

Thankfully, the Great Hall was enormous and could host the hundreds that were there that evening. Robb picked his way through the crowd to find the spot where Theon was seated. He was among other household guards, including Ser Rodrick, Jory, Vayon Poole, and Maester Lewin. The head table was only reserved for the Stark and Baratheon family that evening.

"I hope you all will make Lady Jaena comfortable among you, this evening," Robb greeted as the eyes of the table slid between the two of them.

"Of course," Ser Rodrick answered at once, tugging on his whiskers as Jaena gave them a warm and disarming smile.

Robb understood now what she meant about a pretty face. None of them probably suspected that she had a dagger hiding beneath one of her loose sleeves. Instead, her sweet features and expression had lulled them into a false sense of comfort. The Velaryon was more dragon than she cared to admit.

She lifted his hand from her arm and swept into a spot beside Jory before glancing up at him with twinkling amethyst eyes. "Thank you, my lord," she said graciously before turning to the other men at the table. "I believe introductions are in order?" she spoke gently and with a simple confidence that drew in the men around her.

The corner of Robb's lip twitched, smirking. He had only just scratched the surface, but he yearned to go beneath that. He retreated, still feeling the heat from where her hand had been pressed on his arm, as if her touch was fire.

The Old, the True, the Brave.


	6. Jaena III

_Jaena_

* * *

She was beginning to slide into her niche nicely. Having introduced herself to the table, she knew that these were all earnest men aside from Theon. In fact, seeing the Greyjoy made her fingers flex as if reaching for a blade. The cowardly traitor would need to be reminded where his true loyalties lie before he cost Robb his life. Robb's demise all began with Theon's betrayal. Jaena had already decided that the path lay here, in correcting the Starks so that they could survive. After all, aside from how naive they could be, they were true and selfless. They would serve the people the best as long as they weren't fools.

Jaena would have to teach them how not to be.

The great feast held for the royal family was well done, but she knew that it wasn't to the standard that Cersei was accustomed to. Even if there was an enormous assortment of meat and game, there was a lack of exotic fruit and spices. Salt, pepper, honey, and lemon was all that Winterfell had to show for. But Jaena thought that the lemon cakes were very well done and had more than she typically did.

During the feast, she espied Jamie eyeing her, as if Jaena had done more wrong since their exchange earlier in the day. Instead of looking as weary as she felt, she simply smiled at him. He wouldn't be able to touch her. Not unless he did so in the shadows and Jaime was too prideful to do such. No, Jaena was safe for now. Still, she felt as if she were unbalanced in some manner of speaking. She needed to meditate on this.

So when the dinner broke and everyone got up, Jaena slipped out among them. She didn't think that Robb would think much of her going straight to her chambers. While he was interesting to talk to, she had other intentions. Retreating immediately for her room, she waited until the castle grounds had quieted, staring from out of her window into the courtyard. Once it had, she picked up her wrapped sword and drew in her cloak and hood.

Jaena prowled toward the entrance of the Godswood. She had never been particularly religious, though she knew which religions spoke the loudest and the Faith was not among them. Twilight had risen and those that walked around were too piss drunk for their own good. None noticed her slipping beneath awnings and toward a wood that they didn't worship. The Old Gods would not disturb her.

Moonlight filtered through the acres of forest that Winterfell had been built around. It illuminated the path that she took enough that she was able to find a weirwood before a dark pool of water. In the shafts of light, she could see the weeping face. The grooves were deep and the tree was morose. The red sap leaked from its eyes and mouth, bloody and disturbed. Jaena held her breath as she stared, wondering if the Three-Eyed Crow was staring back.

After faltering, she turned around and sat in front of the tree, unwrapping her sword. The blade rippled in the night and she admired it, having missed the touch for a while. She thought that the moonlight made it more beautiful, almost ethereal to touch. She held it, one hand beneath the hilt and another against the flat of the blade, and closed her eyes.

Thinking of the coastlines of Driftmark, Jaena dwelled deeply as she tried to balance her energies. Salt spray flickered across her face, but when she opened her eyes to draw in a briney breath, she found she was no longer at Driftmark. The world was coated in a verdant gradient. Everything was a different shade of green. Jaena prowled forward, uncertain of what had become of the ocean she had just been looking out toward. This was not her zen.

A crow cawed behind her, drawing her attention immediately. Spinning around, she stared at it, a true solid black. They leered at one another, bird to woman. And then she saw it, the third eye blinking above the other two. Her heart hammered in her chest like a war drum. Where was she?

"Wrong! Wrong! Wrong!" the crow began screeching, the sound of its cawing voice grating on her ears.

The voice echoed through the forest which they stood in and it pained Jaena so much that she fell to her knees, hands scrabbling in cold snow. She forced herself to look up at the crow, but when she did, the trees were no more and she was in the middle of a vast tundra.

"Where-" she chattered, the arctic wind clawing at her.

"Lady Jaena?"

Her eyes snapped open and the vision was gone. Standing on the opposite side of the pool was Eddard Stark. He was watching her, his long face difficult to read. His eyes went down to the sword that she had on her lap as she sat cross legged.

"My lord," Jaena's voice betrayed her, cracking.

"Is that Valyrian steel?" he asked simply. He had Ice with him, but his hands did not reach for it.

"No, it possesses many of the same qualities. It was made by the Lengii, never to rust or need to be sharpened, stronger than other steel," she admired the qualities, glancing down at it before she took the ornate sheathe and slid it back in place, wrapping the blanket back around it.

"And you can use it," this was not a question, but a statement.

Jaena knew she could not lie to this man. "Yes, I can."

Silence hung between them, a wind disturbing the mirror like surface of the black pool. "My daughter Arya has always wanted to pick up a sword, although I know Catelyn would never allow it..." he paused, considering her. "The wound on your hand is defensive. Maester Lewin told me as much."

"He's a very perceptive maester. Yes, I had a dagger with me and deflected Ser Jaime's blow before it could strike home. It would have been much worse if I had not been carrying it," Jaena admitted.

"Why did you pick up a blade to begin with?"

Jaena let out a long breath, thinking back to her childhood. "Do you truly wish to know, Lord Stark?"

"I would not have asked otherwise."

"When I was seven, I went riding on my own. This was not atypical. Driftmark is an island and the folks all knew who I was. We had never worried much about it before, I'd never had any sort of altercation going off on my own... Aside from this one time. Now Driftmark gets a lot of travelers, foreigners, who are on their way to King's Landing or going across the Narrow Sea to trade in Essos. One said group had noticed a little girl riding out to the cliffs on her own.

"They followed me. And being the small, defenseless girl I was, I couldn't do anything. They beat me, took turns raping me, and left me for dead. I was found later by a search party and some locals. They didn't believe I would survive, Maester Gilbreis gave me medicine that induced me into a coma, expecting that I would pass within the fortnight due to trauma. I didn't, but nor did I wake up. The maester seemed to be able to do little and so, my father sought out various foreign healers. And that is how he met Kihara Katsuki, a Lengii mystic.

"Kihara nursed me back to health with Lengii herbs. I could not walk or talk when I woke up. I struggled to even eat on my own. Yet, this stranger remained at Driftmark to see me better... And when she saw that I could ride my horse again, she asked me if I would like to learn how to defend myself. By this point, I was 9. My father allowed it, as he was happy that I had woken up and defied the odds Maester Gilbreis set. He had believed that if I did wake up, I would never be the same.

"So I accepted Kihara's offer, as I did not ever want to fall victim to an attack again. I survived..." None of this story was a lie. She had not possessed the memories of the sickly woman in the hospital until she awoke from the coma. Perhaps she was never originally intended to survive in the Song of Ice and Fire, thus she was a minor casualty that no one would ever know or think about. Kihara had been her saving grace, her rehabilitator, and her teacher. In owing Kihara so much, Jaena knew there was only one way to repay her and it was by following her idyllic views to help alter the timeline.

None really knew this story of her aside from those on Driftmark. Even then, it was her mother's shame, and the woman would not speak of it. Jaena only remained close to her father and he seemed to understand that she needed to serve a higher purpose now that she had been given a second chance. None of them were aware of her knowledge and it was best that the only one with that secret was Jaena.

Eddard chewed on this for a time and then sat down across the pool, pulling out Ice so that he could polish the blade. "I always fear the same fate for my daughters," he admitted slowly, not turning his eyes up as he ran a cloth along the length of the Valyrian steel.

"Then do not take them to King's Landing," Jaena said quickly, the words tumbling from her mouth before she could stop herself.

Eddard glanced up, his grey blue eyes like that of the steel he was polishing. "Why?"

"My lord, I know it is not my place, but do you recall the last time the Starks went to the capitol?"

Eddard set his jaw and nodded solemnly as the memory of his older brother and father being slaughtered at the base of the Iron Throne was trust back upon him. "We have a different king now."

"But the Game of Thrones has always been the same..." she paused, turning to glance at the weirwood behind her. "Do not take Arya at the very least... If you will allow it, I will train her here. The court will not suit her."

"Why?" Eddard's voice was stern and suspicious. "Were you not trusted of the queen?"

"I thought I would be protected under the queen, but we both can see how far that got me. I suspect I was in more danger pretending to be her handmaiden, and acting as a hidden blade, than if I had just remained at King's Landing seeking a suitor... But you seem to be a good, honest man, Lord Stark, and I truly appreciate the courtesy your family has swiftly extended to me. Allow me to try and repay the favor. King's Landing is a cesspool. Coin wins loyalty, not oaths or paper. Please remember that. I have no doubt your own men will stand beside you, but do not trust anyone else."

Eddard's back was erect and his brows drawn to the point he appeared to be scowling. However, she knew that he was contemplating her words. She owed him and the advice from a young woman who had just spent a good amount of time beside Cersei might be invaluable. And as a lady, she also knew how women were treated in the court.

"No one aside from your people, Lord Stark..." she paused, wondering how much she should reveal. "Especially Petyr Baelish."

"Petyr Baelish?" Eddard's attention returned and his fastened his gaze to her.

"Yes, he is a beguiling man who fancies nothing more than seeing himself on the throne one day. He is self serving, but his words are sweet and honeyed. Trust nothing he says. If there were any other advisors that you could trust as far as you can throw them, I would say it is Lord Varys. He cares for the wellbeing of the common people, that is where his heart lies... If you speak to him, mention that I sent you, and Lord Varys will do all in his power to aid you when needed," Jaena pressed, slipping for info in. If Ned never put his trust in Baelish, then it was possible that he might survive the ordeal. "And there is one final thing I must tell you, my lord."

Eddard arched a heavy brow at her.

"Do not allow King Robert to take any Lannister as a squire."

"Why are you so keen to impart all your wisdom to me?"

"Because, my lord, in the short time that I have been here, I have witnessed true loyalty, true courtesy, and honesty. The people here are happy to serve, unafraid that they might be executed for spilling a flagon of wine. There is no trepidation, leaning on gilded words, trying to glean secrets to gain rank or elevation in status. Winterfell is cohesive and balanced... It's quite refreshing compared to King's Landing where I have to think over each sentence I speak, say what people wish to hear, where I make myself valuable by offering my talents up.

"I have no such ambition to gain rank or status. I want to see the land prosper, I want there to be no war, I want a place where the commoners don't get caught in between the squabbles of nobles..."

"And idyllic world," Ned smiled at her wistfully. "You are still young..."

Jaena smiled wryly, almost telling Ned not to undermine her values. "It is what brought Lord Varys and I together... You care for your people, noble or baseborn. The locals of Driftmark were the ones who led the search party to me. They knew the shoals and cliffs better than the Velaryon sailors. They saved my life and I will always fight for them, because most nobles can't see beyond their own noses."

"Well..." Eddard paused, but there was a surprisingly warm smile on his face. "Thank you for imparting your wisdom Lady Jaena, I will take it with me south. And... If I decide to leave Arya here, I would prefer if you did teach her. If she could grow into a young lady like yourself, then I suspect Catelyn would not be as weary with her antics."

Jaena nearly sighed in relief at the notion that Arya would be staying. Instead, she nodded and gave a simpering smile. "Lady Arya has a fire in her, certainly more than I ever possessed... Nothing some extra horseback riding can't wear out of her."

Ned laughed, for a moment seeming undisturbed by all the information she had laid at him. But she knew he was smart, even if he could be naive. He might listen to the part about protecting his daughters, but the other words were from a 17 year old girl who had known much strife throughout her life. Still, who would know better than a lady working beneath the queen? "Do you not trust the Lannisters?" he double backed.

The smile slid off of her face. "Do you, my lord?"

Eddard remained quiet for a few minutes, as if he was wondering if he could impart his ideals to her or if she would betray him. This was a good start. "When I arrived at the Red Keep with my men to take the king... Jaime Lannister was sitting on the Iron Throne over the man he had slew... The man he had made an oath to protect."

"I told you that oaths mean little to most southrons. My own family stays out of the court. However, Lord Stannis Baratheon may be the only one you can take at his word," Jaena replied gently. "Sometimes the safest place among lions is beside them. At least, that's what I thought and I got scratched," again she gestured to her injuries. "The queen is not fond of King Robert. Please, just heed my advice about not allowing him to take any young Lannister as a squire."

By then, she knew the conversation was drawing to an end. She began to wrap her sword back up its blanket. When she rose, she turned to touch the heartree, her fingers caressing the weeping face. They were watching, she knew that they were.

Ned remained in his spot as she began to withdraw. She had just begun down the moonlight path when he called after her, "Lady Jaena-" she turned to look at Eddard Stark as he rose from his spot on the opposite side of the pool. "Thank you, you have given me much to think about..." his eyes went to the tree. "Do you know of the Old Gods?"

"I know of many Gods and the various faces. I do not choose one over the other and respect them all, especially when I am within the domain of another. The Old Gods watch over us in the North and I acknowledge that. Have a good evening, my lord," Jaena turned away and began through the shadows toward the exit. Just how much of the future had she altered by that conversation?

* * *

As Catelyn had promised, Cersei did not call upon her when she was in the company of Robb Stark. It wasn't as if Cersei actually needed Jaena for anything aside from protection and with the Kingsguard's devoted attention on the royal family, there was little cause to be worried in a place like Winterfell. This was not King's Landing.

In truth, Jaena didn't mind Robb's company. Now that she was spending her days beside him, she wished there had actually been chapters written in his perspective. Yet, he had been marked for death at the very beginning of the Song. Would he be now? He was honest like his father, perhaps stern too, but he did try to seem more light hearted in her company as he tried to impress her. Jaena didn't need to be impressed, she knew that underneath was a war strategist sleeping.

They went on walks often through the grounds, to the point that Jaena had become incredibly familiar with each niche and hiding spot. Winterfell was large, but when all you did was walk and talk, you definitely got the chance to walk around it several times.

"What would you say that you enjoyed best in King's Landing?" Robb asked her as they walked by the greenhouse and the glass domes that surrounded them. Jaena hadn't even realized that Winterfell had such an elaborate way of growing vegetables during the winter, since the springs would heat the greenhouse enough to have plant life prosper.

"Enjoyed best? Are we trying to compare between Winterfell and the Red Keep now, my lord?" she mused, cocking a smirk at him. Robb had made it clear that he disliked being called a lord by her, but she favored how it flustered him.

"If you had to say," Robb pressed with a smile.

"Perhaps the exotic fruits. I must admit, I do love the spices that come from across the Narrow Sea, but other than that, there isn't much to miss. The moment you step outside of the Red Keep it reeks. The only nice thing about King's Landing are the imports of finer materials," Jaena admitted. "But it's not as if you couldn't get such materials from Whiteharbor."

"Do you miss Driftmark?"

"Here and there, but it's been some time since I've last been home," and in truth, Jaena felt as if she could spend an eternity away from the place that had caused her so much pain. She did not fault the people that lived there, but being in Driftmark elicited painful memories. "Why do you get to ask so many questions?" she pouted.

"You can ask me some, I just wanted to know more about you," Robb told her.

"And asking what I liked about King's Landing is getting to know me?" she arched a brow at him in amusement. "A proper getting to know question would be like: Lord Robb what is your favorite place to spend time in Winterfell? Or what is your favorite game to hunt?"

"My favorite place in Winterfell would be the Great Hall and my favorite game to hunt is elk," Robb answered without missing a beat. "Grey Wind enjoys elk hunting as well."

The yellow eyed wolf glanced up in acknowledgement of his name and blinked slowly.

They returned into the small yard in front of the crypts. A deep sense of foreboding filled Jaena from head to foot. Her eyes listed across the yard and she stared up at the Broken Tower. She took the lead, wandering closer to the Broken Tower instead of turning toward the Guards Hall, which was the path they typically took.

"What is- Bran!" Robb seemed about to ask questions when he noticed his brother climbing up the walls and making his way up toward the window of the Broken Tower like a little monkey. His wolf was dancing below nervously on the ground.

Bran acknowledged his brother, glancing down. Realizing that he had been caught, the boy began scaling back down the tower. It took Bran a few minutes to find the right hand and foot holds, but he touched back on the ground and gave Robb a rather doleful look. Obviously, he wasn't supposed to be climbing.

"What did mother say about your climbing?" Robb asked him sternly.

Bran kicked at the ground. "She doesn't want me to."

"And I don't mind that you climb, but try not to go so high. What if you fell, Bran?" Robb continued.

"I wouldn't fall. I thought I heard something up there," Bran grumbled. He knew every stone of Winterfell. Bran would never fall.

Jaena's heart was hammering in her chest and ears, she was staring up at the window. What had they just done? That was the window he was supposed to be pushed from. Today was the day. Heat travelled to her face as Robb continued to chastise his brother and she felt short of breath. Had she just stopped Bran from becoming the Three-Eyed Crow?

The heat in her face pooled behind her eyes and Jaena swayed, feeling ill. It was Bran that noticed that Jaena wasn't looking to well.

"Lady Jaena?" Bran interrupted his brother's berating to stare up at her with round eyes. He would never be broken. He would be able to be the knight he always fantasized about being.

Robb turn toward Jaena now, only managing to catch her as the world went black.

When she opened her eyes again, Jaena was standing in the arctic again. The winter beat at her, trying to defeat her, but in the distance she could make out a structure. She clawed toward it, trying to find refuge in its shadow. Finally, as she made way into its arms, she realized that it was an enormous weirwood standing all by itself. The tree's face was weeping blood, but rather than appearing sad, it was hateful and furious.

_"What have you done?"_ the tree wailed, its mouth moving to the words.

Jaena clawed at the roots, trying to latch on so the wind would not blow her away. "I couldn't help it. He didn't deserve it! He didn't deserve it!" she screamed over the wailing wind.

_"It is not your place to decide that,_" the tree roared.

"But I did!" Jaena snarled back contemptuously.

_"And you must pay for these actions. Another Three-Eyed Crow will not be borne and the Long Night is coming," _the tree told her darkly.

The Old Gods had been watching... The Three-Eyed Crow had been watching and she had taken his heir away from him. She could not evade them, not if she planned on staying in the North for a while. Deep in her bones, she knew she had to oblige by their rules. "Where? Where must I go to make things right?"

_"You know the place. You know where the boy was meant to go," _the weirwood hissed.

"But... But that's so far," she wanted to weep at the idea of going so far north and Beyond the Wall.

_"And it is a journey you must take alone. Bring no other man with you," _the weirwood spat bitterly.

"How? The Night's Watch won't let me pass-"

_"There are other methods-"_ the tree faded away and Jaena was flying, looking down upon a deep ravine whose depths she could not fathom. There was a bridge that spanned it, the Frostfangs spanning in the distance; The Bridge of Bones over the Gorge. "_You must come..."_

* * *

Jaena sputtered back to life, staring up at the ceiling of her chambers. How long had she been unconscious? She blinked a few more times, trying to understand what she had just witnessed. The Three-Eyed Crow and remaining children were furious with her. She was an anomaly they couldn't account for and now she had ruined everything. Could she disobey them and remain? Her heart of hearts knew she had to go.

Turning her head, she noticed that Robb was sitting in a chair nearby, his head resting on his interlaced fingers. It was Grey Wind that noticed her stirring first as he stood up and leaned against Robb to wake him. Robb jolted awake and peered over at Jaena who was staring at him.

"Jaena?" he breathed, slightly groggy. "How are you feeling?"

"Better than you look," she mused, but was curious as to why there were such dark circles beneath his eyes. "What's going on? How long have I been asleep?"

"A week," Robb informed her darkly. "And a lot has happened since you fell unconscious..." he trailed off, clearly disturbed by something he could not explain.

Jaena pushed herself up, sitting with her back against the headboard. "What happened?" she insisted gently.

"Bran mentioned that he thought he heard something in the Broken Tower. I was bringing you to Maester Lewin, but Bran fetched some guards and brought them to the top of the tower..." he let out a long breath. "They found Jaime and Cersei Lannister in-" his words dropped off again and Jaena's eyes widened. "King Robert ordered their immediate executions."

Jaena's fingers tightened around the quilt and furs over her. She had known that Bran would be safe, but she had not been expecting this turn of events. In fact, if this were true, then Jaena didn't know as much about the future as she hoped. "So they're bound for King's Landing to await a proper trial-"

"No," Robb shook his head. "Cersei and Jaime were executed."

Her mouth went dry and she sat back against the bed. What did this mean? Surely, Lord Tywin would not stand for this. Even if he knew of his children fornicating, he would have found a way to have them released from prison. It wasn't the Starks that a war would be begun after, it would be the Lannisters this time. "And the children? The royal children?" she rasped.

"The royal children are returning home with their father. They left a few days ago, including my own father, a party of our men, and Sansa," Robb informed her.

Robert didn't suspect that the children weren't his own, despite the fact that Jaime had been fucking his sister. This came as little consolation, seeing that Joffrey was still set to be the heir. A yaen beside her caught her attention. She turned her head to the left to see another dire wolf was sitting on the ground beside her.

"Sansa did not take Lady?" Jaena realized.

"No, father thought it better that Lady remain in the North," Robb said, yet another change.

"And Arya is still here?"

"Yes," Robb rubbed his eyes.

Jaena inspected him, wondering if he had spent as much time beside her, waiting for her to wake up. However, she didn't believe that this would have made him look as haggard as he did. "Have you been having nightmares?"

Robb opened his eyes again, Tully blue settling on her. "How did you-"

"I... I think the Old Gods spoke to me," she tried to gauge his reaction, but Robb was difficult to read, just like his father.

"What did they say?"

"I need to go Beyond the Wall," Jaena whispered, her voice betraying her fear.

Robb leaned back in his seat and ran his fingers through his dark auburn curls. When he opened his eyes again, Jaena saw a keen comprehension. A comprehension that she had not been expecting. "I know," he murmured softly.

"How-"

"They spoke to me too, as mad as it sounds," Robb stood up, his dark cloak fluttering behind him like crow wings as he began pacing the length of the room. "Destiny brought you up here, Jaena. And you must continue going. If the Old Gods want you, you must go." Each word that came from Robb's gritted teeth sounded painful, as if he never wanted to acknowledge them.

"And I must go alone," Jaena added darkly.

Robb turned around and approached her tentatively. He sat on the edge of her bed and stared at her. They hadn't known each other long, but there was a strange connection between them. Jaena was his tether to life. If she was beside him, he would survive, just as Bran had. He didn't seem to be aware of this, but he was still drawn toward her regardless. Jaena was the wildcard, the trickster who could change the tides of fate.

He liked her. Jaena was clearly aware of that. She could not say how she felt, but Robb was a good man. Perhaps better than she deserved. He reached over and placed his calloused hand over hers. "What if you don't go?"

Jaena barked a cold laugh and drew her hand away. "That's not an option. I must go. If you have seen it too, then there's no denying the Old Gods," she muttered.

"And if you don't return?" Robb pursued. "North of the Wall is dangerous for men as well. Crows die all the time to wildlings."

"The Old Gods will guide me there safely. They would not give me a task that I'd fail to meet," she said reflexively, putting a lot of trust into the Three-Eyed Crow that she had crossed.

"Take Lady with you," Robb said suddenly, glancing over at the she-wolf.

"Lady?" Jaena glanced over at the wolf. "She answers to a Stark, not someone like me."

"The Old Gods brought us these wolves. If they want you to get to them safely, then Lady will be of great assistance."

Jaena turned to look at Lady again, the she-wolf that had been slated for death just like Bran. What if Robb's words were true? Not only had Jaena saved Bran, but Lady as well. The wolf, noticing that she was being stared at, stood and placed her massive front paws on the edge of the bed. There was a keen understanding, as if Lady also knew that Jaena was to thank for her life. Yes, Lady would come with her.

Jaena closed her eyes and took a shaky breath. "Then... I'll need your assistance with proper provisions and equipment. I don't think I'll be able to ride my horse past the Wall."

Robb nodded slowly. "Consider it done. I'll have everything drafted for you, including proper attire that will suit you North of the Wall."

"Trousers. Make sure I'm given trousers. A dress will do me no good," Jaena insisted, finally opening her eyes.

"What do you think they want with you?" Robb asked.

"Repayment," she said grimly.

"For what?"

"I don't know," she lied, turning her eyes away. She had stolen the next Three-Eyed Crow. She had gotten Jaime and Cersei killed way before their time. Now, Jaena was uncertain of what would become of Westeros. Perhaps her true enemies now would be Baelish and Tywin. "But I will return. I have to."

She was the only one with knowledge of the future. If she did not return, then all hope would be lost as the Long Night swept down to meet them. She knew of Jon Snow's true lineage in case Eddard did die. She knew of the greatness Daenerys Targaryen would achieve and that the girl would go mad if not nurtured in the proper direction. She knew that Robb would make the mistake of crossing the Freys if he was promised to marry one of them... But would it be with her rather than the Westerling girl?

"I know you will," Robb moved closer and brushed her hair from her face. "And I will wait."

"Don't," Jaena said sternly. "You barely know me and I'm not of a high enough caste to be with a Stark. I am here because your family is protecting me-"

"You are here because the Old Gods brought you here. That is enough reason for me to believe that our meeting was destiny," Robb interrupted, his fingers trailing down from behind her ear, down her jawline and throat. She shivered at his touch. "No woman has ever drawn my attention as much as you. I will wait, because I know you will come back with whatever wisdom the Old Gods have imparted you with."

"Robb, what did I first warn you?"

"Not to be fooled by a pretty face..." he cocked a smile at her, somewhat arrogant. "But you're not fooling me, Jaena Velaryon. You're more than you care to admit. You're adept with a sword, you're a survivor, and you are compassionate for everyone of any caste."

Eddard had spoken with Robb. "Perhaps time will tell if your feelings toward me are as strong as you think them," Jaena mustered weakly. Part of her wanted to accept his advances, but it was much too early and the distraction might cost her. Why wouldn't she like Robb Stark? He was handsome and a good man. He was someone that would love and take care of her. Someone that would consider her advice and treat her as an equal.

"When you return, I'll court you properly," Robb promised, leaning forward and kissing her brow. His definiteness in 'when you return' was meant to comfort him, as if he wasn't just as worried as she was about going North of the Wall.

"If you still want to," Jaena sighed, but she couldn't help but give him a fox-like half smile.

"Still want to?" Robb arched a brow at her. "I'm quite certain that nearly all of the single men in the Great Hall wanted the evening of your arrival. Had they been aware of your talents, I think they would have been even more intimidated by you."

"I intimidated many of them?"

Robb laughed. "Yes, it's in the way you carry yourself. I swear, you walked taller than Queen Cersei. In a way, you remind me of Visenya Targaryen, from the tales of Conquest."

"I'm no conqueror," Jaena mused. "Or Targaryen. How often do I need to remind you that?" But she was flattered that he likened her to Visenya. Of any female Targaryen, Jaena might like to be compared to her. Although, being married to her brother was one thing she didn't want to share with Visenya.

"Maybe a few more times," Robb smirked, but the light atmosphere only lasted for a few more moments. He let out a low breath and then looked to her. "You will be fine," he tried to assure himself.

"Don't come looking for me," Jaena said suddenly. "I will return in my own time, but you have to promise me you won't. Your place is here in Winterfell."

Robb pursed his lips. "I-"

"Robb," Jaena insisted seriously.

"I will leave you in the hands of the Old Gods," he finished, but was clearly dismayed by the idea.

"Good..." she whispered.

Robb stood up and looked to Grey Wind. "I'll begin requisitioning the materials needed for the trip. Including a suitable pack for hiking one you get Beyond the Wall."

"Thank you," Jaena said as he strode toward the door. What did await her with the Three-Eyed Crow? What did he want to give her? What if... he wanted to kill her? To prevent more damage to the timeline? It was already too late for that. Cersei and Jaime were gone. So much would not happen now.

And then there was Robb Stark. Would Jaena be his undoing or his pillar of strength? Would the war begin sooner than she predicted after the executions of the two Lannisters? Would Tyrion take up arms against them? Could Jaena talk him out of it? The questions kept coming and it made Jaena's brain hurt. One step at a time. None of these questions would matter if she died in the frozen wilderness.

Jaena glanced over to Lady, the dire wolf lifting her head to stare at her with intelligent eyes. "I'm glad you're alive," she told Lady. "You didn't deserve that fate either."

Lady rose and licked Jaena's hand in agreement.


	7. Jaena IV

_Jaena_

* * *

She left. Taking the Hunter's Gate under the cover of night, she said farewell to only Robb and Grey Wind. It was best that no one else knew what she was doing or where she was going. She expected that none of them would understand and might even think her a traitor for disappearing. She would cross that challenge when she returned, explaining where she had gone to Lady Catelyn and the rest of the Stark children.

Jaena rode Nimwen northwest, knowing that soon she would be parting ways with the horse. She intended on releasing her into the wild, hoping that some good soul might find her wandering and take her in. The horse had been with Jaena for many years and had become a great partner, but Jaena could not allow her relationship with the horse to get in the way of the path ahead of her. Alone with the animals, Jaena had a lot of time to consider what might wait for her.

Each step they took toward the Wall, the colder the air became, biting at her face cheeks and nose. Even though it was not winter, the air was frigid and unforgiving. There were few folks that she met along the way and many wanted nothing to do with her. They could see she was not one of them, swaddled in her white and grey fur, which were intended to blend into the arctic landscape. But south of the Wall, she stuck out like a winter raven, flying to declare that winter was finally upon them.

She turned Nimwen loose at the edge of the Wall, allowing for the cover of darkness to swaddle them. The Brother of the Night's Watch would be keeping scouts this far west. The Shadow Tower was the closest outpost and seeing that the Bridge of Bones was a viable route to the Seven Kingdoms, they had to be certain no wildlings crossed. But Jaena was keenly aware that night time would allow for her to slip by unnoticed. The bridge was not lit.

Her fingers brushed Lady as they climbed over the craggy hills capped in snow so that they could approach the bridge. It was difficult to see where they were going in the night, the sky was blotted with clouds and every now and again, all light would fadde when the moon disappeared behind the clouds. The idea of traveling down into the Gorge had passed her mind, but as she stared at it now, Jaena didn't know why she had contemplated it in the first place. The Gorge looked to be as deep as a mountain was tall.

She kept a low silhouette, her pale cloak fluttering behind her, holding her sword's scabbard higher so that it did not scrape on the ground. The bridge was long, but no horns had been blown. If the Brothers had noticed her by now, they would have sounded the horn. Jaena drew in a trembling breath before she took the first step on the bridge. She had to move quickly, utilizing the tallest of the shadows to slink within so that when the moonlight did return, her form would not be highlighted against the bridge.

Her legs screamed in protest from how she moved, crouching low like a feline, and edging her way across the bridge. It was so dark that she could barely see where she was placing each foot. Her mitten covered fingers slid against the railing, which she noticed was chipped and crumbling. The bridge did not groan, but it wasn't as sturdy as she might have hoped.

Even the stones were covered in slick coat of ice. Jaena was being as careful as she could, but her boot slipped from beneath her. She thought it was just ice, but the ground gave way beneath her and she panicked, scrabbling for the wall she had just been touching. It was smooth, with nothing to grab onto.

Lady lunged forward and grabbed onto Jaena's pack, dragging her away from the hole that Jaena had not noticed. The dire wolf pulled her back to safety and Jaena laid there for a moment, panting hard as she stared up into the dark sky. She laid there for minutes, feeling icy tears blotting in the corners of her eyes before she turned over and began crawling the rest of the bridge, on her hands and knees, using her hands to make certain that the path in front of her was solid.

Crossing the Bridge of Bones felt like an eternity and when Jaena touched the soft, undisturbed snow, on the opposite shore, she collapsed into it. Shuddering, she remained on the firm ground for a few minutes before Lady nudged her, insisting that they begin moving onward. Jaena labored to her feet, her legs shaking from the close call. If Lady had not been with her, Jaena would have fallen to her death and become one of the many bones in the Gorge.

Their first task had been completed. They were Beyond the Wall. Shouldering her pack, Jaena placed her mitten on Lady before continuing toward the Frostfangs. Where did she go from here? Lady padded ahead, more comfortable in traversing the snow than Jaena was. The dire wolf glanced back, her tail wagging, she knew where to go.

Jaena nodded and pressed after the wolf.

They traveled for days, Lady was no doubt being guided by the Three-Eyed Crow. The paths that they took were treacherous, but not so much that a wolf couldn't make the journey. How they were able to evade wildlings for days was beyond her. She wondered if it had to do with the fact that her attire blended in so well with the surroundings that Jaena went unnoticed.

She was careful where they camped, making certain that they only lit fires at night and in spots that would not be illuminated by the fire. By daytime, they traveled and Jaena refused to light any fires, despite how cold it was. She knew that the smoke could be seen from miles and she didn't want to attract any attention, be that human or Other.

But each fire she placed, Jaena crept close, so close that she could almost touch it. Her provisions had waned swifter than she expected. To keep up with how much energy she was exerting, she had to eat. Had she a horse, perhaps this journey would have been easier, but a horse would have had nothing to eat in the snow. Lady seemed keenly aware that Jaena's stores were running low and began sharing the game that she slaughtered. The dire wolf was growing with each day, perhaps more in the wild than she ever had in Winterfell.

At one point, Lady had dragged back an elk, which Jaena butchered and spent the better part of a night cooking and drying the meat so she could replenish her stores. Lady feasted on the rest of the meat. Perhaps spending so long in one place was unwise, but Jaena had no choice unless she wanted to starve. She knew that once they reached a certain point, no living creature would live there. She and Lady needed their strength before making that last stretch to the Three-Eyed Crow.

"Lady, what do you think the state of the world is going to be like when we return?" Jaena asked the wolf before she tore into a cook haunch of elk. It was tough, but oddly it tasted much better than the old jerky and cheese she had stuffed in her pack. "Do you think Lord Tywin will have declared war by then?"

So many days had passed and they all ran into one another. How long had she been gone? Jaena could not say.

The wolf just stared at her, never supplying an answer, but having someone to listen to her always felt good. If Jaena had gone alone, she expected she'd either be dead by now or mad. Her pointed ears twitched and Jaena sighed, sitting back from the fire.

"We won't know unless the Three-Eyed Crow tells us... and I think he's rather upset with me," she mused. Her nerves had faded at this point. She just wanted to get there and do what she had to do. Whatever form of repayment the being wanted, Jaena was going to pay it or be driven mad because of it.

Jaena let out a low breath and edged down into her spot, her lashes fluttering before she felt herself begin to doze off. Lady stood up and snuggled beside her, a mound of warmth in this frozen iceland.

Her dreams were only disturbed by a low growling. The fire had gone out and it was still night. Jaena moved, her bones cold and weary, as she reached for her sword, wondering if some wildlings were wandering too close. Lady's fur rippled and she had curled her lip.

"Lady?" Jaena whispered, strapping her belt on and sliding her pack onto her back. Her fingers flexed as she held the hilt of her sword, wondering what the wolf was sensing.

Lady led the way, Jaena creeping behind her, out of the cave they had nestled in for the past few days. It was cold, but the moment they had gone outside, the bite of the air was so frigid that Jaena's stomach dropped to her feet. She shuddered, her eyes flickering back and forth. Dawn was nearly upon them, but it did not matter.

Lady trembled beside her and Jaena knew why. The fear that leeched in her bones made Jaena quiver too.

"We need to go," Jaena murmured to the wolf, hoping she would know the safest path away from the wights that were approaching.

Lady's tail was between her legs as she inched forward tentatively, her ears flickering back and forth as she tried to sense their movement. The wolf lifted her head and caught wind of something, it frightened her so much, that the wolf yelped and darted forward into a thicket of trees.

Jaena tried to pursue her, but her legs were stiff and the amount of fur she was wearing to remain warm was too constricting. She nearly tripped trying to keep up with Lady, who had long since disappeared into the darkness. Her heart was in her throat, so loud that she could barely hear the noise around her.

"Steady. Regain composure, clear headed, do not lose focus," Jaena mumbled to herself, trying to find clarity despite the fear that consumed her. She slid her sword from its scabbard, wondering if she would meet just wights or the Others themselves. Either way, she needed to find a way to escape them.

She kept her back to tree trunks, darting between them as she tried to pierce the dark atmosphere and find herself far enough away that the dread no longer polluted the atmosphere. Then she saw the first one. The blue eyes were so bright that they burned like pale fire in the darkness, lumbering toward her with a gimped arm and a blunted weapon.

Jaena diverted the weapon with the turn of her sword, severing the arm clean off. Sliding the katana back, she plunged it into the wight's chest. The blue faded from its eyes and it collapsed to the forest floor. Lengii steel worked in the same method as Valyrian. Jaena suspected that it could also combat an Other's blade, but hoped she would not need to test this.

She continued to dart through the trees, interrupted only when an arrow whistled through the trees and caught her hood. Jaena hissed in pain as the jagged arrow scored her cheek and pinned her to the tree. She snapped the shafted in her hand and pulled, creating a hole in her hood as she broke out into a full run through the trees.

One by one, pairs of blue eyes turned toward her like will-o-wisps, trailing after her. She might be able to fight a handful of them off, but not this many. Where had Lady gone? Desperate she tried to break the cover of the trees, the light of the sun cresting to her left as she churned her legs. But figured loomed in front of her.

Jaena screamed furiously, raising her sword and bringing it down to arch upon the wight in front of her. The steel sliced through him like butter, rendering him to nothing more than a frozen corpse. The other wights closed in around her, weapons flailing. Another hit Jaena in the face, cutting from her tempe to the opposite side of her cheekbone. She cut her down next.

Spinning around she parried a spear's thrust, turned it, and plunged her sword deep. Twirling her blade in her hand, the sword sliced beneath her arm and into the wight that had approached from behind. She staggered out onto the tundra, unable to see out of one eye as blood ran down her face, blinding her.

She was so close and yet she was going to die here.

Jaena roared again and turned back around to face the wights that were approaching. Then she saw him. Standing on the edge of the trees, there was an ethereal being made entirely of ice. The Other was tall and beautiful, watching as she fought in vain. She glared at him defiantly.

"I will die before I join your army," Jaena snarled, turning her sword around. She would commit seppuku before they could overwhelm her. "I'm sorry Robb," she murmured, about to plunge the sword into her stomach when she was grabbed by the scruff and hauled backward.

Jaena flailed wildly as she was picked up and placed onto a steed. Her eyes moved quickly toward the tall figure that had seized her, shadowed by a cowl, blue eyes piecing said veil. They were astride a hart. She... She knew who this was.

Lady howled beside Coldhands and the darkly garbed figure kicked the hart into gear. The creature trilled and turned around, speeding away from the approaching wights. Jaena sheathed her sword and clung to him, glancing down at Lady. She had believed the wolf had abandoned her, but in truth, Lady had sought out the one person that could save her.

She felt guilty for believing the wolf had abandoned her, closing both eyes as her wounds stung. The blood on her face froze, the wounds closed by the icy air. Still, she could not tell how deep they were. It didn't matter, she was alive. For now.

Coldhands led his hart further and further north without stopping. Jaena had been aware that they were close, but hadn't been expecting to cross the Others. Weren't the Others supposed to be further north? Or was Jaena further than she believed? Either way, her questions would soon have answers. She sagged against the stone-like frame of Coldhands and dozed off, exhausted from trying to fight and run through the snow while wearing so much attire and a pack.

Eventually, Coldhands brought his hart to a trot and Jaena lifted her head, noticing that they had began riding slower. Her left eye was encrusted in blood and she found it difficult to open. She took her mitten and rubbed the dried blood off, observing the haunted forest that they had entered. Coldhands had halted in front of a cave, on top of which an enormous heartree grew. They were just on the cusp of the Land of Always Winter. No wildlings or Crows would travel this far north. There was no point.

Jaena slithered down from the saddle, glancing up at Coldhands to see if she could observe Benjen Stark's face beneath. However, Coldhands turned away and trotted behind some trees, disappearing from view. Jaena sighed and glanced over at Lady who stared into the depths of the cave. This was it.

A tiny creature approached. Her skin was nut-brown dappled with paler spots like a deer, her ears large, and big eyes filled with liquid gold and slitted like a feline's. She had dreads of brown, red and gold, like the autumn leaves of trees, in which vines and twigs were interlaced. She was dressed in a cloak of leaves. She appeared no older than the youngest Stark children.

"Jaena Velaryon," Leaf said, watching her carefully.

"Yes," Jaena croaked.

"He waits for you," Leaf told her, her voice high and sweet edged with sorrow.

"I know..." Jaena followed Leaf into the cave.

There were other children watching, of various colors and attire. Each watched Jaena with large, feline-esc eyes. They murmured to each other in their own language, one that Jaena could not comprehend.

Leaf led Jaena to the main chamber of the cave where the Three-Eyed Crow was. He was an old man, pale and withered, his hair white, and eyes unseeing. He reminded her of an albino person, skin so translucent that his veins were visible and his eyes looked pink. The roots of the weirwood that sat upon the cave intertwined him, clinging to him, passing through him, possessing him. He might have appeared blind, but Jaena knew he was looking at her.

"Jaena Velaryon," he said clearly. The children hushed themselves and Jaena felt as if she were standing in a trial. "You stand here before me because of what you have done," but he did not speak in Common. Instead, the Three-Eyed Crow spoke in High Valyrian.

Jaena paused, wondering if the children could understand him. "I cannot help but cause changes where I tread," Jaena responded, speaking to him in High Valyrian.

"Yet, you purposely put yourself into a place where you would cause change. If you knew what was best, you would have died in Driftmark or remained there unto the end of your days," the Crow said, but there was a faint smile on his ghostly face.

"You summoned me here... But the changes that are happening... I am uncertain of where they will lead," she admitted.

"The Battle of the Five Kings shall still happen," the Crow assured her. "And you have chosen your side, have you not?"

"I have," Jaena replied evenly.

"Death will not be cheated."

"What do you mean?" Jaena asked.

"Your touch saved Robb Stark and Grey Wind. You traded their lives for that of Cersei and Jaime Lannister. The God of Death is appeased there, but..." he turned his head slightly to Lady. "There are others who will die that were originally not slated for death... And others who must die regardless."

"What... What do you mean?" Jaena crouched down to encircle her arms around Lady. Lady had been her saving grace, her ward to get this far north.

"Lady's life is already spoken for. Her last quest was to bring you here," he announced.

"Is that the only reason I came here for? To bring Lady to her death?" Jaena asked, her emotions rising as she thought about losing the wolf.

"No, you are here because there will be no Three-Eyed Crow after me. You took that when Brandon Stark was intercepted. But... we must make due with what we have. Jaena Velaryon, you possess knowledge that the new Three-Eyed Crow would have. You must take the torch after being purified and risen. Once you pass that test, you may return to work alongside of your chosen King."

Jaena's brows furrowed and she stared up at the Three-Eyed Raven for a few long moments. Test? Wasn't traveling up here enough of a test? "But I am not from blood of the First Men. I am-"

"You have the blood of the dragon. As will another conqueror. One who will fall subject to her own madness unless you can nurture her or stop her," he interrupted, smiling toothless.

"How? I have no powers. I have nothing but this knowledge."

"Some might say the knowledge is enough, but... Death can pay for life."

"What do-" but she was suddenly aware that they children were pressing in around her on all fronts. She wanted to reach for her sword, but she watched them, wondering what they were doing.

"Sleep Velaryon. Sleep until it is time."

And darkness came over her.

* * *

When Jaena awoke again, she was freezing. Her eyes blinked open slowly and she was gazing down at a clearing in the snow. She was bound to the tree, nude. Beneath her, she saw the children of the forest with torches. Lady was also tied to the ancient weirwood, gazing over at Jaena with wide eyes.

"What... what are you doing?" Jaena's voice finally came to her. She saw at her feet that several of her belongings had been laid out. The chest with the dragon's egg, her sword and dagger, and the necklace that had the Velaryon sigil on it. Twigs and tinder were at the base of the tree.

The children began singing, their voices rising in a terrible and sad song. Leaf prowled closer, ushering another child before her. This child was naked, eyes covered by a blindfold. In Leaf's hand was a carven dagger of dragonglass. The children began chanting quicker and louder, the voices rising as Lead deposited the child at the base of the tree. She was soon flanked by two others brandishing torches.

Their terrible song reached a height and Leaf pushed the dragonglass blade into the chest of the child in front of her. Black blood pooled from his chest and Leaf pushed him back into the tinder, gesturing for the two others to drop their torches. Fire sparked beneath Jaena and Lady, enveloping the dry and dying weirwood to which they were bound.

"No, no, Lady!" Jaena screamed, tears streaming from her eyes as she looked to the wolf. The flames moved swiftly, lancing up the tree and enveloping them. The wolf howl and cried as her fur was singed and flesh rended by the flames. Jaena sobbed, watching as her partner for the last couple of months roasted beside her. "No! No! NO!" she wailed, the fire consumed her.

Jaena could see them, waiting, waiting, until the smoke was so dark and black that she saw nothing. It wafted high above the haunted forest and Jaena felt pure misery and sorrow, similar to what she had experienced as a child. Lady had not deserved to die. Why? Why did they have to burn her too? But as the hours passed, Jaena realized that the fire did not singe her, it did not consume her as it had done with Lady.

Her bindings burned away and she crawled to where the charred corpse of the dire wolf was and clung to it. She wept, even though there were no more tears, praying to any God that would listen. She rocked back and forth, wishing that she had joined Lady on the other side. But when the smoke and fire had passed, the cinders cracked and someone approached her.

Leaf craned over her. "It is true. Come, you must leave."

"No! Leave me with her! Leave me!" Jaena shouted, still holding the remaining pieces of Lady. They were unrecognizable. Jaena was holding them so tightly that the body had half crumbled away in dust and charcoal.

"You are not safe here. Please, she needs you," Leaf said.

"She? She who? Lady needed me and she burned!"

"Her," Leaf motioned to Jaena's shoulder.

"W-what?" In her misery, Jaena had felt nothing, not even the extra weight that was clinging to her hair. There was a gentle coo by her ear and when Jaena craned her head, a slender azure face was peering back at her. A dragon.

"Do you understand now?" Leaf asked gently. "The wolf was marked for death and we paid for the life of the dragon with one of our own. You must prepare the North for the battle against the Long Night."

"I-" Jaena stared at the tiny dragon, her mouth going dry.

"You must get dressed. He will bring you back," Leaf gestured to Coldhands who was standing solemnly beyond the ash and smoke. "The Night King will have sensed the dragon's birth. You must get beyond the Wall and back to safety so it can grow."

Jaena could still barely comprehend what was going on. All of this had been so the Three-Eyed Raven could give her a dragon? What was the purpose of this? Daenerys would have three... But as she gazed up into the sky, Jaena saw no comet or bleeding star. Those dragons had not been borne yet... but as Leaf said, only death could pay for life. Lady's life had not been exchanged for anyone and so, Lady had to die. But Robb and Grey Wind's lives had been paid for. Jaena now had to see that Ned's and Catelyn's were also paid in full.

Jaena stood, cradling the small, but brilliant colored dragon. "To Winterfell," she whispered, walking through the cinders.


	8. Robb II

_Robb_

* * *

He had lost many things in the days after the king had left Winterfell. He had lost his father, his sister, and soon thereafter, the woman that most intrigued him. His mind was on all of them often, but he was most worried about Lady Jaena, as he'd allowed her to go north of the Wall all on her own. Why had he thought that a good idea? She was a southron, unfamiliar with wildlings and the cold. But his perception had been distorted by the dreams he had been plagued by. For some reason he's believed that the Old Gods had wanted her. But from the moment she had left, the dreams had ended, aside from the occasional ones where he envisioned himself in Grey Wind's fur.

If Jaena Velaryon returned, it would be anything short of a miracle. Robb's thoughts were plagued with thinking of her body broken and bleeding beyond the Wall, if she had even made it that far. Who knew what she encountered before then. Robb had never witnessed her skill with a sword, what if his father's gleanings were wrong and Jaena barely know how to use the thing? Her death would be upon his shoulders and he'd have to send a letter to Lord Velaryon eventually, explaining that the last his daughter had been seen was when she had insisted on going North of the Wall on her own.

Robb was of a mind to write Jon, to ask him to keep an eye out for her, but he knew that might be a waste of their resources. If the Night's Watch was aware that a noble lady had gone stalking beyond the Wall, they'd send all their rangers out looking for her. What if they intercepted her before she completed the task she'd set out to do?

He tried to busy himself with the tasks that Winterfell set in front of him. While facing the wrath of his mother, Robb insisted that Arya be taught how to use the sword that Jon had left her. His youngest sister had always been closest to their bastard brother, but Robb couldn't help but wonder if Jaena had known how to fight when she was younger, if she would have faced such a tragedy. Eddard had divulged the details that Jaena had shared with him the evening of the feast. Her words were only solidified more when Jaime and Cersei had been found together, having guarded the secret of their sin for years now, right beneath King Robert's nose.

What would have Robb done in the king's position? He wondered if he would have lashed out in the same way. Certainly the two deserved what they had gotten, but he remembered the terrified face of the queen as she was dragged into the main tiltyard. Jaime had tried his damndest to get to her, but he had discarded his sword when they had been making love. The guards had been able to get to him before he'd even had the chance to retrieve his weapon, rendering him defenseless and staring wildly at his twin as she sobbed openly.

Robert saw them hung, staring at their limp bodies after they had suffered broken necks. The simpering of the Imp would not quell him, who was distraught by his siblings' distress. Tyrion left after their bodies had been taken down, muttering something about bringing them to Casterly Rock with his guards, for a proper burial. If there was anyone that Robb felt bad for, it was Tyrion.

The royal children were also beside themselves. Clearly, they were their mother's children, having been coddled and nurtured by her. Each was unconsolable and Robert didn't want to even look at them, since they looked so much like their treacherous mother. Even Joffrey seemed to be affected by what had happened to his mother, which surprised Robb, as the boy showed that he cared little of the feelings of others.

Ned had been adversely affected as well. He had implored that Robert take them back to King's Landing to stand trial and so that Lord Tywin could be brought to try and figure out what was believed to have been witnessed. He had also insisted that the royal children not bear the death of their mother and beloved uncle. Robert had denied both requests.

Since the royal party had left, Robb knew that there was a storm coming. The deaths of Cersei and Jaime Lannister would not simply skate by. Tywin Lannister would exact his payment for the heads of his children, even if they had been in the wrong. And now Robb's father would have to try and make preparations against whatever Tywin had begun brewing. Robb was also tentative, wondering if he would need to summon their banners as well.

It had been months since they left and news traveled by raven back North. Among the events happening in the South, Robert had remarried to a young lady called Maegery Tyrell. Catelyn had been astonished that Robert would marry a girl barely older than Sansa, but they could do nothing.

So, Robb made his preparations, making certain they would be well provisioned for the impending winter. He picked up where his father left off, trying to act as a surrogate for his siblings. Bran and Arya would practice swords together and Rickon would watch with Shaggydog, still too little to join them. Arya often bested Bran, but who knew how long that would last. Once Bran grew tall and strong, his strength would put the two of them on equal playing ground. Arya was quick and dexterous, able to out maneuver Bran.

Watching them reminded him of he and Jon, in which Jon had always been the better swordsman. He allowed his mind to wander for a momentary reprieve, having been worried about what Tywin Lannister would do in retaliation. But the demands that Tywin eventually made weren't as absurd as Robb had thought. He simply wanted his grandchildren back. No other demands were made other than that Cersei's children be given to him at a halfway point between King's Landing and Casterly Rock.

Why wouldn't Robert give the children back? They were a dull reminder of Cersei and he had a new wife that could create heirs for him. She was young and fertile, able to bear many suitable children for him. But Robb learned that his namesake was prideful. Robert would not give up the children. Tywin had done nothing to deserve them back and Robert had done no wrong in executing Jaime and Cersei. Robb knew that this choice was catastrophic and he began to wonder himself... Were those children even Robert's? They had none of his features, not a single one, were Lannister through and through. If Jaime had been sleeping with his twin, it was possible each of those children were bastards borne of incest.

But how could they ever know? The only two who could confirm it were dead.

"My lord, a raven has come from King's Landing," Maester Lewin prompted Robb as he bent over ledgers that needed to be reviewed. He wished that he had a Vayon Poole of his own, Theon wasn't any use to him now. Where Robb had shoes to fill, Theon continued with his hedonistic tendencies.

"And?" Robb lifted his eyes, staring at the roll, wondering if tidings of war came with its arrival.

"Lord Tywin has made his decision," Maester Lewin declared, passing the roll over to Robb.

He unfurled it and scanned over the contents.

'_By the Decree of-_'

Robb skipped all the titles for the king and went right to the paragraph beneath it.

_'Lord Tywin Lannister of Casterly Rock is hereby brandished a traitor to the Crown. Any of those who side with Lord of Lannister, will also be deemed treasonous. All those who consider themselves loyal to the true king, Robert Baratheon, will summon their banners and prepare for war._'

Robb crumpled the paper in his hand and sighed deeply. Had his father not been able to stay Robert's wrath? "And this is from your father," Maester Lewin retrieved another.

Robb seized this note, knowing that there would be more information.

'_Robb,_

_Lord Tywin Lannister has declared war on King Robert. He is mustering his forces in the west, against all of his counselors' advice. I tried to convince him to give the Lannister children up. I suspect they are not even his, but I do not wish to see them needlessly slaughtered. If it would not mean my head, I would have seen them safely to Tywin to put a rest to the qualms we all have. I am afraid it is too late now and war is coming. _

_Robert does not know what kind of position he is in. He owes the Lannisters a mountain of gold and where he expects he is going to fund this war is beyond even I. Perhaps his wife's family will be his new benefactor, but unless we can summon the coin and resources, this war is going to be hard fought with soldiers switching to the side that can afford them. I have sent word to Edmure, as I know he will fall in allegiance with the North, but have received no answer from the Vale. _

_Whether we wanted war or not, our banners must also be raised. I trust that you are more than capable in seeing that out men are prepared for war so that we might aid the king. Summon the Lord of the North to Winterfell. The North will be needed, as their allegiance has always been true and is the only Robert can truly rely upon aside from his family. _

_Tell your siblings that I miss and love them._'

Having this much word from his father was refreshing, even if what elicited this long of a letter had been grevious news. He hoped that his father would leave the king's side to help him, but suspected that Ned would remain by Robert unto the very end. He pressed the letter to his forehead and brooded deeply. Minutes passed before he opened his eyes and peered at Maester Lewin.

"Summon the banners, war is coming," Robb directed, pushing back his seat and striding to look at the intricately carved mantle behind him. The fire roared in front of him, but he did not feel warm.

Grey Wind perked up, cocking his head slightly, and padding alongside his master as he tried to understand what was bothering him. By now, Grey Wind's head reached Robb's waist. Now, when the wolf moved, he rippled with muscles and prowess. He was able to take elks down on his own and could very likely main a horse just as easily.

Robb reached down and placed his hand on top of Grey Wind's head. He waited until he heard Maester Lewin retreat, the door clicking shut behind him. "I hope they'll be safe. I hope all of them will be safe," Robb murmured, thinking of his father, his sister, the Stark men accompanying them, of Lady, and of Jaena Velaryon. They were all outside of his grasp, where he could do nothing but hang onto whatever news reached him.

* * *

"Why are you going to the Vale?" Robb asked his mother, his brows furrowed creased with frustration.

"Your father informed me too that Lysa hasn't answered his letters. Something must be wrong. I have to go see her," Catelyn insisted.

"Today is the day that the last of the bannermen are due to arrive. They'll be questioning why you aren't alongside of me today," Robb informed her stoutly. Truth be told, he wanted his mother to be beside him. Somehow, having Catelyn around made making decisions easier. If he needed advice or couldn't make a decision, Catelyn would give him counsel.

"It's better this way. The faster I can get word from the Vale, the sooner we know the amount of forces that will be mustered for the Crown," she gave her son a sad smile. "I know you will be fine on your own, Robb. You were meant to lead, just like your father."

Robb didn't possess the same confidence as his mother, he continued to frown at her. "You couldn't wait until after these arrangements?"

"Robb, the bannermen need to see a man who does not lean on every word his mother gives. If I sit beside you and you lean over to me for counsel, your bannermen will see you as weak. You know how to make the right decision, you do not need me confirming them," Catelyn said. "You can take my counsel behind closed doors, but not at the head table as the Lord of Winterfell."

"Father is still the Lord of Winterfell."

"Is your father here?" Catelyn prompted. When Robb did not answer she gave a firm nod. "You are the Lord of Winterfell as long as he is not," she grabbed her son's shoulders and pulled him close. "Be safe while I am gone."

"I should say that of you, you're the one who shall be traveling," Robb sighed, embracing his mother, holding her close. He didn't want to let her go, afraid that this might be the last time he saw her. He didn't know if he'd ever see his father again.

"I should be fine, our enemies are in the south west, not the east," Catelyn assured him with a faint smile. "I know that you will make both your father and I proud..." she drew in a deep breath, steeling herself as she turned to the other Stark children. "And all of you, don't give your brother a hard time. He's going to be very busy... Arya, will you keep an eye on both of your brothers?"

Arya, who had been Catelyn's bane for the past few years, had become astoundingly disciplined in the days that she began studying the sword. Without Sansa and her fighting, Arya had little to complain of, and since Robb had changed her daily lessons to be more akin to Bran's, she was getting precisely what she had yearned for. She wasn't acting out any longer and she found solace in tending to her sword, which she called Needle.

Arya smiled broadly at her mother. "Of course. Nymeria and I will make sure Bran and Rickon stay in line and don't bother Robb," the girl promised, running her fingers through her dire wolf's fur.

"How long are you going to be gone?" Rickon simpered, rubbing his eyes as he tried not to dry.

"Hopefully not long," Catelyn told her youngest, picking him up and cradling him close. "I'll be home before you know it."

Rickon sniffled and threw his arms around her neck, pressing his wet face into Catelyn's hair for a few moments. She placed him back on his feet and he sniffled again, trying to contain himself.

Bran stared up at their mother. "Tell Aunt Lysa she should come visit," he said. "And bring Robert. He's of a similar age to me, isn't he?"

"A little younger, but we'll see. If there's a war coming, they might not want to leave the Eyrie," Catelyn pointed out, reaching forward to pull Bran and Arya into her arms. "I'll be back in Winterfell. I will," her voice trembled slightly and Robb cleared his throat, beginning to feel emotions rise up into him. His mother stood and gave them all a tearful look. "Be good now. I love you all, so very, very much."

The children watched as their mother joined Ser Rodrick who helped her onto her horse. All four stood there, watching as she rode for the Kingsroad out of the Eastern Gate. Minutes passed as she faded from view and Arya was the first to stir.

"You have a meeting today, right?" she asked, glancing up at Robb, the only of the youngest children who did not have tears in her eyes.

"Yes, with the Lord of the North," Robb informed her.

"We'll have to get washed and cleaned, right? Even if we're not allowed to the assembly, there will be a feast after?"

Robb nodded. "Yes, if you could be certain that the lot of you are prepared for this evening's preparations-"

"Consider it done," Arya shrugged, glancing at Bran and Rickon. "Let's go play in the yard a bit more before we get cleaned up. I want to try a new move on you Bran."

Watching his siblings retreat around the corner, Robb drew in a deep breath and turned to go to the Great Keep. He also needed to get ready for that evening. All of his bannermen were going to be present. The total of just the lords numbered at 37, two of which would not be there. Rodrick Cassel had just ridden away with his mother and Vayon Poole was in the capitol with his father. Beneath that were also the Masterly Houses, Glover and Tallhart, and the Crannogmen, Blackmyre, Boggs, Cray, Genn, Greengood, Peat, Quagg, and Reed. Robb did not expect the Mountain Clans or Skagosi Clans to make an appearance.

Many of his charges had already arrived, though Robb was doing well to keep his distance. He did not want to speak with any of them until they had all arrived. The deadline was this evening, those that did not arrive would be sent ravens inquiring of their being. However, with 33 of the nobles houses having arrived, Robb expected the last few would trickle in.

Retreating to his chambers, Robb glanced in the looking glass, pulling at the beard that had grown out over the several past months. It was difficult to believe that his father and Jaena had departed Winterfell nearly a year ago. His hopes that the latter would return were waning. He tried not to dwell on it, but when he did the painful thoughts of being captured by wildlings or meeting an accident in the wilderness plagued him.

Robb filled his bath and stripped, slinking into the depths of the water as he ran over the words he was going to speak to his bannermen over and over again. This was going to be the first time that he addressed them and he wanted to be certain that he didn't make a fool of himself. He might have seen twenty names days passed, but many of them still viewed him as a boy.

He spent the better part of an hour in the steaming mineral water before he got out, dried himself, and donned a respectable outfit. He wore a black leather doublet, polished and fine, his undergarments all as equally dark. Throwing the fur trimmed cloak around his shoulders, the last touches were completed when Robb strapped on his swordbelt and leered into the mirror. Tonight he was Lord of Winterfell. He needed to guide his men, tell them that war was to be expected.

He took a few more moments to repeat his opening words beneath his breath before he glanced down at Grey Wind. The dire wolf gazed at him intently, wondering why he was so hung up on everything. Why was he so nervous? He was a Stark.

Robb released a sigh and went for the door, his wolf flanking him as he prowled toward the Great Hall. The air nipped at him, hinting at the summer that was coming to a close, and he could see the lights of the Great Hall illuminated against the night. It might have been his favorite place, but tonight he wished he didn't have to sit in front of so many.

He entered from the rear of the hall, Theon taking notice of his arrival first.

"All rise for Lord Robb Stark of Winterfell," Theon proclaimed, standing from his position at the head of the table.

Chairs and benches scraped backward, feet shuffled, and metal clinked at everyone rose in the chamber. Robb stepped out, his eyes sweeping out upon the sea of men. He recognized the lords, having met them at one point in his life, some on numerous occasions. Toward the front of the Great Hall, he noticed Lord Bolton, Lord Karstark, and Lord Umber. The others were intermingled with their most trusted men or the sons had come in place of their lord-father.

Robb stood where his father would sit, gazing intently out at them, waiting to see if any would balk under his Tully blue eyes. The air was still and quiet aside from the breathing of the Northmen. "Take your seats," Robb instructed clearly, pulling out his own seat and sitting. Grey Wind sat proper, his head visible over the table for all of his men to see. They waited for him to continue. "Tonight we gather here as Winterfell. As you all probably know, King Robert has declared Lord Tywin Lannister a traitor and summoned all banners. Be aware that these are not punitive measures to ensure safety. Lord Tywin has openly declared war upon the Crown," murmurs rippled like stones skipping on the surface of a still lake.

"What does Lord Tywin want out of all of this?" a man asked Robb, Lord Glenmore if he recalled correctly.

"He originally wanted his grandchildren, but was denied this."

"The royal children?" another man muttered, causing more questions to spread among them.

"The king has remarried. Who knows how long he will consider the children of his treacherous late wife legitimate," Lord Roose Bolton pointed out.

"Why didn't he give Lord Tywin the children?" the question that Robb had been asking himself since the news came.

"We are not here to contemplate the decisions that our king has made," Robb said sternly, raising his voice to squash the small conversations that were ongoing around him. "I have summoned you to speak of war. The North will be supporting King Robert in his endeavors against House Lannister. I wanted to speak with you face to face, to request that you rally your men."

"War? Boy, is your father going to be returning to lead us?" Lord Umber spoke up, eliciting calls of agreement.

Robb glared at him, wondering why the men were being so unruly.

Beside him, Grey Wind snarled, curling his lips back to reveal needle sharp teeth. Robb stood, splaying his fingers on the table in front of him, but it was not he who spoke.

"Is that how you speak to your liege lord?" the female voice asked sharply, a silhouette shaded by the light behind her.

Heads turned to observe the newcomer, a chill wind blowing in behind her as she shut the grand door behind her.

"A woman?" Lord Umber huffed. "Has our liege lord taught you that a meeting such as this is not for a woman?"

"I'd watch your tongue," the woman hissed, taking a menacing step forward, gloved fingers tightening around the slender hilt of a sword that Robb recognized. "Unless you'd like it missing, Greatjon. You will respect the Lord of Winterfell, be that Eddard or Robb Stark."

At her words, the men that were with Jon Umber, including his son, leapt to their feet, ripping their swords from their scabbards. "You'll regret your impudence, woman!"

Jon Umber lumbered toward her, his sword catching hers, the singing of steel against steel echoing throughout the Great Hall. Men looked between the two and to Robb, but he did not interrupt. His heart pounded in his chest as the woman turned the long sword, darting beneath the weight of it. Greatjon Umber staggered forward and she drove the hilt of her hard into his ribs, causing the massive man to wheeze in pain as the air was knocked from his lungs.

She stuck her foot out and tripped him, sending him splaying onto the ground, his sword clattering out of his grasp. This move elicited laughs around the hall and Robb settled back into his seat as she disarmed Smalljon and knocked him out with a chop to his brow. Gesturing at the next men to charge at her, they balked, glancing back at Robb to see why he hadn't ordered anyone to help.

"No?" she mused, sheathing her sword. She was dressed in leathers, though the outer shell had been discarded. Robb recognized the grey leather, though it had been colored dark with wear and dirt. The ragged remainders of her white cloak dragged on the floor behind her. With just the boiled leather, Robb saw the same lithe and lean frame from months ago. She moved with a striking prowess, even more intimidating than she had been in a dress as the leather highlighted her impressive physique.

Jaena Velaryon dropped her hood as she approached the dias on which he sat and took a knee in front of him. He wished he could say that her face looked exactly as he remembered it, but it was marked with three scars. The first from Jaime Lannister, the second on her opposite cheek, deeper than the one Jaime had placed on her, and the third ran from above her left brow, over her eye and nose, and nearly to the edge of her right cheekbone.

She had removed her sword belt and offered the sword in front of her, as if she were a knight. "My lord," her lips curved up in the same fox-like and mischievous manner as he recalled. Even with the scars, it did not detract from her beauty. "I bring a new friend with me."

Coiling from out of her air, a serpentine creature poked a slender muzzle out and crooned. Only those nearest to the table could see the dragon that clung around her neck, wings tucked against its back.

Robb stared at her, thrilled and joyed to see her, but also astounded by the impossibility that was perched on her. The Old Gods had wanted Jaena for something higher than Robb could have ever presumed.

"Rise, Lady Velaryon," Robb said finally.

Jaena stood and turned to face the men, smug as they gasped at the sight of a small dragon. It was only about the size of a cat, but its existence should have been impossible. She strapped her sword belt back on, scanning the crowd, craning her head back as if asking where she should sit.

By then Lord Umber and his son had risen, both blinking in the vision before them. Perhaps Smalljon believed he'd been hit too hard on the head as he glanced at the crowd, trying to gauge if what he saw was true.

Greatjon barked a laugh and leaned off of his son. "Blast it all, am I seeing things?" he asked the crowd, but no one offered him an answer. "Velaryon... Velaryon..." he repeated curiously, as if this were wrong.

"Not a Targaryen," Jaena assured him.

"You've got a bloody dragon!" Greatjon wolfed.

"And you've a foul temper," she countered, again, jarring laughs from the lords and men around her.

Greatjon bellowed with laughter. "Is this one yours, my lord?" he asked, jerking a thumb as Jaena.

Robb swept his eyes toward her, but did not speak for Jaena.

"I serve Lord Stark, as does Viseyna," she reached up and scratched beneath the dragon's chin. There was a light air before she turned to Robb and for a moment, he saw the experiences reflected in her expression. "We've a bigger issue than Lannisters up north," she whispered. Robb did not acknowledge her remark, he would speak with her later.

"Visenya? You have a sense of humor, don't you, my lady?" Lord Roose asked her, gazing intently at the dragon.

"I like to believe I do, although there are a few who aren't affected by my charm," Jaena admitted.

"Excuse my shock in the fact of a dragon... But, my lady, how did you go about acquiring one?" Bolton pursued evenly, getting the rest of the chamber to fall silent.

Their eyes followed her and Visenya, begging to know how a dragon had been found. Jaena looked among them, weighing her options, before she started. "It's a story that few of you might believe had I no dragon on my shoulder," she began, pacing the length of the Great Hall. "I arrived in Winterfell with the royal party about a year ago-"

Jaena recounted her experience, the visions she had when she sat beneath the weirwood, how the Old Gods seemed to be calling out to her. She mentioned her fainting spell just before Jaime and Cersei Lannister had been found. She explained how Robb had helped her prepare for the journey north, but left out the part about his nightmares. From crossing the Bridge of Bones, to running the frozen arctic of Beyond the Wall, the men clung to the edge of their seats as she spoke. Her story trapped them, drew them in so that they were staring up at her in awe. This was a journey that few men would dare, let alone a woman with just a dire wolf.

Robb noticed that Lady was not with her.

"There are worse things in this world than lords wishing to exact their revenge against the Crown. I have seen them. The wights and the Others," Jaena assured them.

Visenya, as if to prove a point, belched fire. Had anyone possessed reservations that the dragon was real, the azure lizard had just wiped away all doubt.

"I believe it is why the Old Gods brought me north. They knew I had a dragon's egg, though it was old and petrified. I escaped the wights with these wounds," she gestured to her face. "And made it to an ancient forest where the children were. Having gone so far, I had no choice but to put my faith in the, even if what they did terrified me. I was bound to a dead weirwood, and beneath me, they sacrificed one of their own to give life to the egg that remained dormant for a thousand years. I was burned on the tree with the egg and when nothing but cinders remained, I found Visenya among the rubble."

By the proportions of her story, it all seemed to fantastic to be true. Perhaps it was the way she told it, making is sound akin to one of Old Nan's tales, that made it difficult to believe. Yet, proof was staring at them with bright golden eyes.

"You do not burn?" Lord Halys Hornwood asked.

"Would you like more proof?" Jaena retorted.

A man grabbed a nearby torch and passed it across the table so that it could be offered to Jaena. Robb disliked the idea of Jaena burning herself to prove a point, but just as he rose, she removed her glove and thrust her fingers over the flame. She did not flinch or balk, instead she stared at Lord Hornwood. There was no stench of roasting flesh, nor bubbling on her flesh. When the knight in front of her drew back the torch, Jaena's skin was unmarked from the flame.

"She's a Dragon, she's truly a Dragon," Lord Harys murmured in shock.

"Now, does anyone else require more proof?" Jaena asked the room indignantly.

"If the Old Gods have brought the dragon to life... They have done it to protect the North," Lady Maege Mormont said, standing up so that she could stride up alongside of Jaena. The two beside each other could not have been more polar in appearance. However, despite that, they were alike in the fact that both women fought. "Lady Velaryon... If what you say is true, the true war is to the north of us, not the south."

"The Others cannot cross the Wall. There is old magic imbued within the ice. As long as the Wall stands, only the wights may pass. The entire kingdom must be at our backs before the Night King can be defeated and to achieve that, you must rally your banners to fight alongside Lord Robb Stark of Winterfell," Jaena told her and the rest of the room.

"Had I not seen a dragon with my own eyes, I wouldn't believe it," Greatjon admitted, standing up and unsheathing his sword again. Instead of advancing toward Jaena, he turned to Robb and pointed the tip of the sword toward him. "My lord, House Umber will fight alongside of House Stark in the name of the King."

"As will House Hornwood!" Harys pulled his own sword out.

Maege shouted her agreement. "And Mormont!"

The three were echoed by the dozens of other houses in attendance. Their cries were for the North, for the battle might lay behind or below them, for the omen of a dragon blessed upon them by the Old Gods. This was a good sign, a sign that Robb was meant to lead if the lady that he assisted in her endeavors had a dragon that spoke for Winterfell. Most would be content with having a dragon at their backs, with the purpose of defending and defeating the Others, but Robb knew there would be some insistent on using the dragon as the dragon was named for; as a conqueror.

Robb's eyes slid across the room, considering what lords might not be content with what they already had. He also thought of what might happen once the lords realized that the Velaryon who possessed a dragon was unwed. Nothing was more precious than the dragon aside from the one who could command it. Based on the old tales of legend and myth, dragons would only listen to those with the Blood of Old Valyria... Even then they had to have lineage dating back to Dragonlords. While Jaena insisted she was no Targaryen, the Velaryons had always married into the Targaryen family to preserve their Valryian lineage.

When the hollering subsided, eyes turned back toward the dias. Robb felt the heat of their gazes upon him and old Lord Karstark spoke up. "So," he drawled. "Where does that leave us? There's a war to erupt above us and one beneath us."

"The living take precedence right now," Robb declared, men nodding around him. "That includes the Night's Watch. "Ser Wylis?" he glanced at Lord Manderly's eldest son, who was less round than his father and more capable of travel.

"Yes, my lord?" Wylis asked, standing up.

"I am aware that Whiteharbor has been having some issues with pirates... Send all of the men intended for the gallows to Eastwatch-By-The-Sea," Robb devoted his attention to the other onlookers. "As for the rest, any prisoners you may have, will be sent to the Wall, willing or not. I want a list drawn up of provisions that can be spared for the Brothers."

"My lord, winter is well on its way, we must prepare for the worst. We have had a long summer and a long summer is always followed by a worse winter," Harys Hornwood argued lightly.

"There won't be a winter to prepare for if we're all dead," Greatjon snapped irritably. "Take care of the Wall and we stave off how long it'll take them to pass it. Might buy us a few more months so the rest of the Seven Kingdoms can quit this pissing contest and get in line with the true threat."

"House Mormont has fur to spare. We will send it to the Shadow Tower to be distributed," Maege informed Robb.

"Good," Robb nodded. "Come the morning, please find Maester Lewin to give a tally of what you have to spare for the Wall." He waited to see if more questions would arise, but the majority of his subjects had bowed their heads together to delegate. When he was contented by this, Robb nodded at Gage, Winterfell's chef, that had been standing off in the corner waiting for permission to serve the hall.

Jaena was still in front of the table as regular conversation broke out, the ale signifying that the meeting was at a head for the moment. He gazed at her, wondering what she had been through. She might have given a tale of her endeavors, but she made it sound much more adventurous and daring that he suspected it was. Her scars were proof, as was Lady's vacancy.

"Lady Jaena," Robb implored, drawing her attention.

Jaena turned to look at him, her arms were crossed and she was surveying the crowd like a sentinel. "Yes, my lord?"

"Sit beside me, your journey was long and arduous," Robb beckoned for her, aware that his siblings would also join them soon, but there were enough chairs at the table for all of them. He had Jaena sit to his left, where his father typically swapped out household staff each evening so that he could glimpse into the ongoings of their lives.

Visenya unfurled from around her mistress's neck, slithering down into her lap after she had sat. Her scales flickered in the firelight, brilliant like turquoise, but with an opulence similar to a gemstone. Each time the light hit a scale, it refracted as if each scale held many intricate facets. The dragon peered at him, noticing that he was staring, bright liquid gold eyes regarding him with the same intelligence that Grey Wind perceived him with.

"I hope you'll forgive me for not having the chance to freshen up," Jaena jested as they were served chalices of wine.

"I'm just happy that you're alive," Robb admitted openly, gazing intently at her. "Nearly a year you were gone. I thought the worst had happened."

"It nearly did," Jaena responded gravely. "I have seen things... Terrible things..." she trailed off and lifted her goblet, pressing it to her soft upturned lips and drinking deeply. "And Lady," she continued sorrowfully.

"We will speak more of it in private," Robb assured her, his suspicions were confirmed.

"Right," Jaena said stiffly. "What about the rest of Westeros? I know very little of what is going on given my position. I've gathered thus far that King Robert has declared war on Lord Tywin Lannister."

"Yes, after the king refused to give Lord Tywin his grandchildren."

Jaena pursed her lips and nodded. "He should have given Tywin the children. He married Margaery Tyrell, did he not? Parting with the three children would have been an easy price for taking Jaime and Cersei's heads."

"I thought much the same, from what I understand, he's not very close to any of them," Robb agreed.

"Cersei made sure of that," Jaena grumbled, knowing more about the late queen than Robb had cared to remember. "She rued him. I suppose it was only a matter of time before one of them killed the other. I surprised Cersei went first."

"Why did you agree to protect her?"

"Mostly for the children, they were the innocent ones... Tommen and Myrcella anyways. In King's Landing, you power is based on your connections. Being that the queen was one of the more dangerous pieces on the board, I offered my assistance to her so that I might be safe for a time. Which, as you know, backfired on me rather spectacularly when Jaime Lannister tried to kill me."

"And what about you now? House Velaryon is a respected house, but now that you have a dragon," he looked to Visenya.

Jaena stifled a sigh. "I do not know if it will be safe for your family to remain in King's Landing now," she told him seriously. "I may be no Targaryen, but I look like one and have a dragon, I've become what King Robert always feared of Rhaegar Targaryen... I doubt anyone south of the Twins will believe the dragon I possess it real, but he will call upon me Robb. When he does, you must realize what position that puts you in."

Robb's brows furrowed and he frowned at her insinuation. King Robert was a good friend of his father's. Even if the years had pushed them apart, Robert would listen to Ned's council. But what did Robert hate more than anything? Targaryens, the ones that had stolen his beloved Lyanna away from him, and they were represented by dragons. Targaryen or not, a real dragon embodied the people that Robert despised. He had ended that mad era, Robert would be damned before allowing a new generation to have life breathed into it.

Eddard and Sansa would become wards if Robb declined letting Jaena go south.

"I'll send a letter to him. If war is coming, they may be able to slip away under the pretense of preparing the North," Robb suggested. They couldn't lose a dragon. If the Long Night was coming, they would need a fully grown dragon to be able to destroy the undead army. King Robert's qualms seemed petty and childish in the face of it all.

"I will also sent one of my contacts a letter," Jaena assured him. "If anyone can get your family out of King's Landing safely, it would be him."

Robb felt a momentary stab of jealousy at the mention of another man, but Jaena did not dwell upon the subject. Rather, she seemed keen on the food in front of her, likely one of the first meals she had that was not roasted over a campfire. Visenya snuffed loudly and pawed her way onto the table, whipping her tail back and forth. On the tip of her tail was a bauble like an arrow head, sharp and pointed.

What did dragons eat anyways?

He didn't need to wait long for an answer. Jaena pulled the chicken leg from the thigh and put it in front of Visenya. "_Dracarys_," at her words, Visenya opened her mouth and charred the already cooked meat until it was blackened. "Always overdone with this one."

Visenya ripped into the meat, holding the leg down with her front claws. The dragon did not chew, but tore smaller chunks off and guzzled the pieces before continuing to maim her dinner. His attention was drawn away from the azure dragon when movement from the corner of his eye informed him that his siblings had arrived. Unlike the rest of the hall that was aware of the dragon, Arya, Bran, and Rickon did not take immediate notice.

Arya was first to look down the table to observe the strange on the other side of Robb. It was then that her eyes came to rest on the dragon who was gnawing on the bone, crunching open so she could suck the marrow out.

"Is that..." Arya started, Bran and Rickon now looking down the length of the table.

"A dragon!" Bran exclaimed, standing up, his chair screeching back behind him. He had always been the most enamoured with the tales of the Valyrian conquerors.

The three youngest Stark children did not take their seats again. Instead, they clustered around Jaena and Visenya. As the three were curious of the dragon, the dragon gazed back at them, just as interested in the small humans. "_Issi raqirossa_," Jaena muttered to the dragon, lifting Visenya into her hands so that the dragon could stare intently into their faces.

"You speak High Valyrian?" Arya asked Jaena.

"Yes, it has been passed down through the generations of my family. The language never died, as most Targaryens preferred speaking High Valyrian, and Velaryons often married into their family," Jaena explained, Visenya coiling her tail around her wrist.

Jaena had not been given the chance to bond with the three of them, but they had seen her around while the royal party was in Winterfell. Robb had occupied his time with her for those few days and thus, Arya had taken to teasing him about it. But now they could also see why he had been drawn toward her. It didn't take a dragon to think that Jaena was interesting.

Arya was the first to reach forward to run her fingers across the smooth, yet brilliant scales of Visenya. Bran was after her. Rickon was the most tentative, but when the dragon was lowered in front of him, he stared at it, entranced by its beauty before he touched her nose. Visenya licked his fingers and the boy giggled.

"Dragons get enormous, don't they?" Bran inquired.

"They do, Visenya is still just a baby," Jaena told him warmly.

Visenya seemed to take offense to this, glancing back at his mother and letting out a bitter hiss.

"Well, it's true, you little brat," Jaena smirked, running her fingers down the pointed spines of the dragon's back.

"Are you going to return to Driftmark with your dragon?" Rickon squeaked, astounding Robb that he had recalled so much about Jaena.

"I will be staying in Winterfell for a time," Jaena said.

Arya brightened at this, having noticed the hilt of a sword at the young woman's waist. "You will?"

"Yes, I am not going anywhere soon. And since I am not, you should all go and enjoy your dinner," she ushered them off to their seats so that she could offer Visenya another piece of meat in peace.

The feast continued with few interruptions. Some lords came to pay their homage to the head table. Jaena interruption may have disturbed the meeting, but it had been a power play. She could have waited until after to approach, but she had purposefully made her appearance while men were doubting him. It had been a carefully placed maneuver that moved favorably into Robb's hands. If Jaena swore her allegiance to him, then Robb and the North were the ones with the massive asset.

"Not to take advantage of the hospitality you have already extended me, but the chambers I was previously utilizing wouldn't still be available, would they?" Jaena asked him once the hall had dropped to a lull.

"I actually left your remaining belongings in there," Robb told her truthfully. Moving them out would have been acknowledging that he didn't believe she would be returning.

"Wonderful, you'll have to pardon me for not bathing before the arrangement, but I thought this appearance might have a better effect," Jaena smirked, motioning to her battered attire that had once been as white as her hair.

"I don't care about that," Robb told her.

"And you'll need to forgive me from taking a moment for myself. I need to get cleaned up-"

"Jaena, there's nothing to forgive. If we do not speak tonight, we shall speak tomorrow," Robb assured her, watching as she stood, taking the dragon with her.

"Thank you... my lord," despite the exhaustion in her voice, she still had the whimsy to joke with him.

* * *

Robb oversaw the rest of the Great Hall filtering out, feeling much more confident in the future endeavors of preparing for war. A servant found him swiftly, contemplating the events in front of the mantle, to inform him that Lady Velaryon would meet with him. Grey Wind glanced up at him, sensing his trepidation. He had promised her that he'd court her normally when she returned, but she's mentioned nothing of coming to Winterfell with a dragon. She had given her sword and wings to him, he was liable for her protection. There would be many eager to poach the dragon while it was still young and defenseless.

He crossed the chill tiltyard, drinking in the aroma of an incoming snow on the air. The inside of the Great Keep was warm, the heat trapped in by the pipes of spring water that ran throughout the walls. What would he say? Words had come easier when in front of a hundred men than the woman who had just stolen the entire show from underneath him. Oddly, he did not mind, finding her moxie attractive.

Grey Wind observed him, pressing close to his master, as they approached the door. He raised his hand, thinking nostalgically of the first time he had done this. Rapping upon the door, there was a slight shuffling behind before it opened and Jaena allowed him in.

She wore a simple dressing gown of silk over a chemise, which brushed over her bare toes. All dirt and grime had been washed from her skin, but the scars remained as permanent fixtures on her fair face. She took a seat in a nearby chair and bent over a letter that she was writing. Robb assumed it was in High Valyrian from his inability to comprehend it.

"What happened?" he asked her finally, drawing the attention of her pale lavender eyes. The story she had presented seemed mostly true.

"You heard it all, did you not?" she retorted.

"There's more to it. More that you didn't want to say," Robb gleaned, pulling a chair up beside her.

"Storytellers always take the worst parts out... No one would want to listen to a tale that makes them contemplate how close the protagonist of said story came to annihilation in more than just a physical manner," Jaena said coldly, finishing the letter and rolling it up into a fine tube which she sealed with the turquoise Velaryon sigil.

She was grasping at straws, trying to avoid talking about the subject. "Where's Lady?" he continued.

"Only death may pay for life," Jaena responded gravely. "She sacrificed herself for me, to make sure I got to the haunted forest…" she paused to stare at the quill in her hand before setting it down. "And the journey… Toward the very end, I believed I was going to die. I saw Him, Robb, I saw the Night King."

She had not mentioned the Night King. Her story had been about crossing wights and noticing one of the Others behind her. "You never gave a good description of how you escaped."

"A being… He was certainly undead, but in the service of the children. Had he not arrived at the time he had, I would have been overwhelmed by them," Jaena informed him.

Robb could barely imagine being alone and surrounded by the reanimated undead. Just the thought of it made him shiver and when he looked into her eyes, he could see the terror of those memories reflected in them. "You're back now and you're safe," he assured her, reaching out to grasp her shoulder, squeezing.

Jaena gave him a cynical smile. "Safe for now. The day will come that we have to fight Him."

"And by then, we will have the strength of the Seven Kingdoms and a fully grown dragon behind us."

"That's wishful thinking," Jaena remarked, standing up with the letter held fast in her palm. "Things do not always work out as planned, Robb. And many of the living would be happy to see the North torn apart of this ancient threat. Even if it means they might have to face it alone… They will deny it until they see it with their own eyes."

He gave her a slight smile. Perhaps he needed someone with this outlook on everyone, it would keep him grounded and from putting too much faith into those he barely knew. "And what do you think of the bannermen? You gave Lord Umber something to think about."

"It's not the loud ones you have to worry about. Lord Umber will be loyal to you. I expect the same of Lord Karstark and the Mormonts. However, Roose Bolton I have my doubts about," Jaena said, naming some among the more influential houses in the North.

"I need your doubt, it will keep me in check," Robb told her. "Will you be one of my advisors?"

"Are you trying to flatter me Lord Stark? Do not hand me a position that your men would fight for," Jaena warned him flatly.

He chuckled at her. "I'm not handing it to you. You did not have to return here. You say that you owe the Starks, but you certainly do not owe us a dragon. Technically, you should be reporting to your liege lord, Renly Baratheon."

"I doubt any of the Baratheons are too fond of me."

"And the Starks are? We fought on the same side as the Baratheons."

"I did not forget that," Jaena murmured. "I came back because I promised I would. I see myself devoting my assets to a worthy cause. The Starks treat their people right, something that is rare among southrons. My heart has always been for the people, especially the common who rarely have someone to look after them. All nobles care about is their power above others, what they might ascertain from war. What about those who grow out food? Those that built the foundation of our houses? Those that we rule over? I do not forget them, nor do I think they should be punished for the squabbles between nobles. If I can join those that I believe will treat everyone as they should, then I will."

He was impressed by her compassion, the way that she spoke of the baseborn. To Robb, he had always known that they each had a part to play. He would not eat at night if not for Gage, there would be no food if not for the farmers, there would be no game if not for the houndmaster. There were some that were so detached from reality, enthralled by their own riches that they could not see past their own noses. The people needed a patron and Jaena was willing to be such.

"Are you certain you didn't return to gain my favor?" he teased, making it seem as if he was brushing off her passionate monologue.

She scowled at him, eliciting laughter from Robb. "I told you Lord Stark-"

"Not to fall for a pretty face," Robb recalled with a smug smile.

"I said you may not want to court me still, although now that I have a dragon…" her eyes swept over to Visenya.

"I wanted to court you before you had a dragon," Robb reminded her lightly.

"Well, if that is the case, I assure you that just because you are the Lord of Winterfell, I shall treat you no differently than any other suitor. And now that you've given me a seat as advisor… Perhaps I should advise you that it's not best to court someone you're relying on for council."

"Are you saying that because you do not wish for me to court you or truly as my trust advisor?"

"That shall be for you to discern, you must interpret my advice in your own way Lord Stark."


	9. Varys I

_Varys_

* * *

He had read over the letter several times, pressing it to his forehead, and contemplating what his choices were. The foundation of King's Landing had been rocked the moment that the Lannisters had been carelessly thrown from their seat. Many believed it was Robert that ruled. They were fools. Robert was nothing but a face, even if he was unaware of that. Cersei had been pulling most of the strings for a while... Oddly enough, for all of the warmongering that was happening, Varys had seen little of their liege since war had been declared between the crownlands and westerlands.

For months Varys had waited for an inkling, a slight notice that Jaena was safe. She had gone completely dark after she left King's Landing to retrieve Eddard Stark to be the next Hand. Now she had reappeared and from her words, he knew that there were darker forces manifesting beyond the Wall. Had he not known the girl so well, he might have been skeptical. Kihara had always put a lot of faith in her, had she somehow known with her Lengii Mystic abilities that the dragon egg that she had given Jaena would hatch? Even if the king did not believe the tales of a dragon in the North, it still bode ill for his Hand, as he would demand that the blasphemer report to King's Landing.

Jaena had been keenly aware of this and her letter requested that Eddard and Sansa be extradited immediately. Over the time that Eddard had been in King's Landing, Varys noticed that he was just, fair man. The type of man that was meant to rule, even if he never wanted such a responsibility thrust upon him. Yet, he was naive, believing that oaths would stand the test. Only fools thought as much and Eddard had yet to equip himself with the proper skillset to survive among the cutthroat opportunistic nobles of the south. However, Varys was impressed that he had survived this long.

Whatever Jaena had shared with him in Winterfell had been enough for Eddard to not steer clear of him. Usually, Baelish was the more attractive of the two secret keepers, but Eddard was wise not to trust Little Finger. Many people thought that Varys and Baelish were one in the same, similar, with similar motives. How wrong they could be and it was not just because Varys was a eunuch. He could see the greed in Petyr's eyes, his disregard for anyone other than himself. He cared nothing of those he squashed to get where he was today and would continue that way. But Varys could not touch him and nor did he want to try.

Eventually, Baelish would get caught up in his own traps and Varys wanted to be around when it backfired spectacularly.

Varys reached up and knocked gently on the tower door, glancing at the northmen who stood on either side of the door. He tucked his hand back into his sleeves and looked back to the door, wondering what Eddard Stark was up to this rainy afternoon.

The door creaked open and Lord Stark peered at him, weary from the war preparations. "Lord Varys," he regarded thinly, but not more so than any other day. Clearly, he was still suspicious of Varys, as few trusted the eunuch.

"Lord Stark, may I come in?" he asked pleasantly, noting that there was no one else in the office.

"If you must," Eddard stepped aside to allow him in.

Varys glanced around the tower, still has bland as Eddard preferred it. With a resounding click, the door shut and Varys continued to spin around curiously, turning only to face Ned when he had taken his seat at his desk, hunched over a heap of parchment that needed tending to. Varys approached and cocked a whimiscal expression at Eddard.

"What is it Lord Varys?" Eddard was sliding a piece of parchment from view, one small enough to be from a raven.

Varys suspected that it was from his son, Robb. "My lord," he entreated carefully. "I take it you have received news from the North?"

The wolf stiffened, crumpling the paper in his hand, but did not care to answer.

"I, also, have received word from the North," Varys informed him smoothly. "And from what I gather, your days here are numbered, my lord."

Eddard glanced up from his work, his grey eyes settling to pin Varys to the spot. "Numbered?" he repeated thinly.

"Whether or not what our letters say is true, the rumor will reach King's Landing eventually. When it does, King Robert will want the Velaryon girl sent south to answer for these strange rumors... And... If they're true, my lord, do you really believe she'd come to King's Landing?" Varys took a seat in front of Eddard and glanced at his fingertips with disinterest.

Silence sat between them at Eddard Stark regarded Varys for a few minutes. Finally, "Do you know?"

"Of course I know, my lord. Did Lady Jaena not tell you to trust me?" Varys pointed out.

"Robb will not let her come south. Not if their letters can be believed... And she should not. Robert would have her and the dragon killed," Eddard commented darkly.

"Then you must leave. Leave before the king has the chance to catch wind of these rumors. I do not know if you have noticed, Lord Stark, but you're treading on thin ice as it is. The king was not happy you supported giving his children to the Lannisters," Varys reminded him.

"Those children are probably not his," Eddard sighed, sitting back.

"I highly doubt it as well, but telling him that means each of them will meet the headsman. And you're trying to avoid seeing them harmed for the crimes of the late parents, which is admirable... But do not also throw away your life. The North will need you and King's Landing has never bode well for any Stark. I have connections, ways that I could get you and Lady Sansa out of the city before anyone realized-"

"And if I leave without word, then Robert will declare war on the North too," Eddard interrupted.

"Then make your choice Lord Stark, because our king has not been the same since the queen's death. I am already extending my neck quite far to give you this path of escape from King's Landing," Varys said pointedly. King Robert had been missing from most council meetings and had not delivered the news of war from the head of the table. Varys wondered if even Eddard had gained a meeting with Robert of late. "And if Queen Margaery were to become pregnant soon-" he left what might happen to the golden children of Cersei to hang in the open air. The Tyrells would see that their line procured the throne, even if that meant disposing of the other three in some manner.

Eddard sighed, weighed down by the walls that were closing in around him. If he fled, it would be as if he were abandoning his post. If he remained, he would remain long enough to have to turn against his family to the North or become a traitor to the Crown. If he moved now, he could survive.

Shouting could be heard distantly in the halls below, so loud that it drew the attention of both Eddard and Varys. Both stood and drew toward a tower window to glance down upon the lower tiers of the Red Keep. Guards were scattering, yelling to one another, moving in a frenzy. Gold and white cloaks flashed, some moving for the Hand's tower.

"What do you suppose is happening?" Varys wondered, but Lord Eddard was not as nonchalant about the situation as he was. The eunuch stood and regarded him, wondering if he knew what was going on.

The door banged open behind them and Varys turned, his brows furrowing as the white cloaks stalked in. Ser Barriston Selmy was at the forefront, giving Eddard a pious and doubtful look, as if he didn't believe it had come to this. Varys backed away,.

"Lord Eddard Stark, you are under arrest for the orchestration of kidnapping the royal children," Ser Barriston proclaimed.

Varys paled and glanced over at Eddard, but the man was just as shocked as he was. Clearly, he had no idea that this was what he was going to be accused of.

"The royal children?" Varys echoed, the Kingsguard finally seeming to take him into account. "Where are the royal children?"

"Perhaps Lord Stark could shed more light on that for us," Ser Barriston said as the other cloaks flanking him stripped Eddard of his sword and manacled his hands.

Varys was stunned, he didn't think that Eddard had it in him to get the children away without being captured... No, he certainly didn't Yet, he had been framed for it all the same. Lord Stark was escorted from the tower and Varys lingered for a bit longer, wondering if any hints lingered. But Eddard seemed to be clean.

Varys left the Tower of the Hand and made his way to the throne room where Eddard should have been brought. The castle was buzzing like a hive, between the movement of the cloaks and the nobles, trying to discern what was going on. By then, everyone else had gleaned that the royal children were missing.

Varys joined the crowd that had begun to collect before the Iron Throne. He slipped by many of them to see where Eddard Stark had been forced to kneel in front of the throne, his daughter standing off to the side with wet eyes. When he looked upon the throne, Varys did not see the King Robert that he knew.

Sitting upon the throne was a pale and sallow shadow of the boisterous king. His skin was as white as snow and the veins could be seen through his translucent flesh. Around his eyes were dark pits, which nearly swallowed his eyes that were a lightning blue. But the light had all but faded, a glazed and complacent haze pooled over them. He gazed down at Eddard with indifference, as if this was not a man he had grown up alongside of.

"Where are my children, Ned?" Robert asked, his voice as brittle as he appeared.

"I don't know, your grace," Eddard said honestly.

"You do. You were the one advising that I give them to Tywin. You kept advising it, pushing it on me! I had nothing to pay him for, his daughter was fucking her twin and they paid for it accordingly. Now... Where are my children?"

"I had nothing to do with their disappearance," Eddard insisted plainly.

"_Liesssss_," Robert hissed, spittle flying from his lips. "Throw him in the dungeon. Perhaps no food and water will soften him up so he can confess before I execute him."

The court was startled by this, murmuring among themselves by the king's proclamation that Eddard was to be condemned. What proof was there to make such an accusation? He had nothing but an idea that Eddard might have had a hand in ferreting away his 'children'. This was not the king any of them knew, acting upon what he saw at true. Varys stared up at the plinth where Robert sat upon the throne and wondered if Robert ever suspected that he would become the man that he sought to destroy.

Now, he had served his time, and the weight of the crown had become too much. Varys backed away, not bothering to stay.

* * *

He kept his hood drawn and head down at he sat at the table of the Feisty Gill in the ports of King's Landing. Scrutiny had come down hard on everyone, not just Eddard Stark. Varys wondered if King Robert was going to begin burning his enemies with wildfire just as the Mad King had, but reserved those thoughts to himself. Eddard Stark had not done this, it was too intricate and successfully pulled off. No, there was another that Varys suspected had done it, but he had no proof.

"_Rytsas raqiros_," a voice greeted, a darkly garbed figure taking the seat left open across from him.

Varys glanced up, but made no move to lower his hood. "_Ivestragon ñuha aoha mirre_."

"A Mystic, from Leng," the female replied in Common. She removed her hood, revealing a middle aged Lengii woman. Her hair was black like night and made of silk, tied in a plait, and curved over her shoulder. Her slanted eyes regarded him with familiarity and she smiled broadly, but perhaps too much so, because Varys could not return it. "Is something wrong?"

"Many things," Varys did not stop speaking Valyrian. It was safer if the majority of the tavern could not understand them. There might have been foreigners from Braavos or other Essos city-states that spoke a bastardized version of High Valyrian, but he doubted they answered to anyone in King's Landing. "Have you not heard?"

"Heard?" Kihara drawled, returning to Valyrian.

"The Wolf has been marked as a traitor. The king believes that he had them sent away, possibly to the Lion."

"Did he?"

"No, I do not think so. He's been framed."

"My people can free him," Kihara swore. "I am bound for the North as it is... I received word from Jaena."

Varys contemplated it, but it was too risky. Kihara would be directly linked to Jaena if anything went wrong and he was trying to stave off the crown's attention from the North as long as he could. "Let me see what I can arrange, but your people may be of use," he admitted. They followed Kihara without question, an ensemble of Lengii who had each mastered skills. If any elite group could free Eddard Stark from the dungeon and get him out of King's Landing, then it would be Kihara's men. They would need Varys' knowledge of the Red Keep first.

"Say the word and I will have him extracted," Kihara promised, her brown eyes boring into his intently.

"He has a daughter too. We could not leave her here," Varys added.

"She will be easier to find... But we must do this swiftly. The more time we lose, the more they have to prepare against an assault such as this," Kihara reminded him.

"I would say that I wouldn't believe the king would go through with this, but... He has changed," Varys said, thinking of the ghost of Robert Baratheon that remained on the throne.

"He does us no good. He has served his purpose," Kihara murmured gravely.

Varys knew what that tone of voice meant. "Do not do anything until I find out more. I stil am not certain what happened to him in such a short amount of time."

"Either way," Kihara said pointedly. "We will need a distraction if we plan to extract the wolves."

* * *

The advisors were called to meet for council the next day. Varys wonder what this meant. Would they be discussing the fate of Eddard Stark? Many things plagued his thoughts, drawing the similarities between Robert and the last king. He didn't even have an inkling of what may have caused such a sudden switch. Taking post at his seat, he sat within the confines of his own mind, not bothering to look at any of the other members of the council. Many were just as withdrawn as he was. Most notably, the Baratheons were terse and Renly was astoundingly quiet despite his typically charismatic demeanor. A pin could have been heard dropping in the room as they sat there idly.

A creaking hinge drew the attention of the table, eyes sweeping in the direction of the door. The sickly King Robert hobbled out, his splendor robes of emerald green seemed loose on him. Varys never believed he would see the day where King Robert was losing weight, he only presumed the man would continue to gain girth until his death. But it was who followed closely behind that made Varys' blood curdle and his lips turn down.

Swaddled in deep, bloody crimson was a red priestess. Her hair was as red as her attire, eyes maroon and vibrant, her scarlet lips were turned up in a seductive, yet coy smirk, as she followed closely behind Robert and helped him into his seat. She tucked her hands into her long sleeves and stood behind his ornate chair, despite the eyes that were settling on her, wondering what a woman was doing in the among the council.

Varys did not need any answer, he already knew that the foul magic that the Red Priestess possessed would have entrapped Robert. Perhaps he had fallen prey to how voluptous the woman was before she caught him and began working her blood magics. Disgust and hatred roiled within Varys, so deep and powerful, that he could not suppress a haughty glare at her.

He did not trust any religion that would condone the mutilation of children.

Silence emanated around them, so thick that it could be cut with a sword. No one chose to speak first, uncomfortable by the strange red woman that stood like a bloody shadow behind Robert.

"So," Robert implored finally, picking up a jewel encrusted chalice in front of him. "Eddard Stark is the reason we're here right now."

"What do you plan to do with him?" Stannis asked clearly, his voice stern, fingers crossed as he looked to the priestess instead of Robert.

"That is to be decided, which is why I've brought you here today. I think he should be punished for his treason accordingly," King Robert said.

"Begging your pardon, your grace, but what evidence do you have that it was Lord Eddard that orchestrated the kidnapping of your children?" Varys asked silkily. The children had not been found and Varys knew that they would get to Tywin if they had escaped this far already. He had made no effort to retrieve them, that was not his job. Joffrey would make a terrible king and letting Tywin have him was a blessing.

"Proof? Proof?" Robert blubbered, his jowls quivering. In that moment, he seemed to realize he had no proof, his eyes becoming glazed over and unfixed.

"Your grace?" Maester Pycelle drawled, pushing his chair out slightly so he might go and assess the king.

"I'm fine," Robert snapped irritably.

"Lord Eddard was making suggestions to placate Tywin Lannister by giving the royal children to their grandfather," Littlefinger pointed out, picking up the torch where Robert had dropped it. "Perhaps our Hand thought he could resolve the war by giving them over. I mean, you have remarried into the Tyrell family, your grace, it's possible that they also assisted Lord Eddard."

"You believe Queen Margaery had something to do with this?" Renly sounded affronted by this. Most knew at the table that Renly was close with Loras Tyrell, perhaps closer than most men should have been with one another.

"I'm just saying that her children would be the only royal children if the late queen's were given back to the Lannisters," Petyr said smoothly.

"That's too obvious," Varys murmured.

"Would you like to weigh in Lord Varys?" Baelish asked sharply.

"Yes, perhaps I should," Varys simpered with a cool smile in his direction. "Your grace, I do not believe Lord Eddard could have managed this. He is a capable man, but he's not exceptionally clever. At least, not clever enough to pull this off. Had he done this, I doubt he would have stayed in King's Landing long enough to stand accused of it. Additionally, he is one of your oldest friends, I do not believe he would ever betray you. He'd die before that, unlike half of those sitting at this table."

King Robert gazed intently at Varys, a spark in those lightning blue eyes, and for a moment, Varys thought that he had broken through the spell. Yet, the spark was gone and Robert picked up his chalice and drank the wine. He spluttered and shoved it back onto the table, wiping his mouth clumsily with the corner of his sleeve. He couldn't keep it down.

"Then who do you think, Lord Varys?" Robert demanded.

"I cannot make an educated guess, your grace. There is not enough evidence, but if you give me time to see what digging I can do... That's all I request," Varys requested evenly. His intentions were elsewhere, he did not intend to stay in King's Landing much longer at this rate. Not while Robert was being poisoned by a Red Priestess.

"If you Eddard Stark you will lose the support of the North," Stannis said darkly, leering at his brother. "And with war looming on the horizon... Unless you know Eddard did it without a doubt, you should place him on house arrest or renounce the accusations. If word reaches Winterfell that Eddard Stark is in the dungeons of the Red Keep, I doubt they will aid us until this situation has been resolved. When we have undeniable proof, it may be accepted, but we cannot move on just an inkling or suspicion."

"Will Tywin Lannister even bother with the war if he's got his grandchildren back?" Maester Pycelle asked foolishly.

"Of course he will. He gave the Crown one chance to pay for Jaime and Cersei's heads, it's too late now," Stannis snapped irritably.

"And what if it does come to that? What if Eddard Stark is guilty?" Renly brought the question that they did not want to think about, forward.

"Then he should be punished accordingly," Baelish answered simply.

"Perhaps then you can count the North among your enemies then," Varys remarked lightly. "If Eddard or Sansa Stark are harmed, the North will turn against us."

"The North is going to turn against us either way," it was the Red Priestess who spoke this time, her eyes brightening as she gazed out upon them. "I have seen it in the flames. A power grows in the North and it will not bow to a Baratheon."

"Ravings," Pycelle spat, waving her off.

However, Robert gazed up at her thoughtfully, drinking in what she had said. He settled back into his seat, fingers quivering on the arm rests. Closing his eyes, he drew a soft breath, and then looked back up at the priestess. He had made his decision. All on the word of this terrible, evil woman.

Varys knew he had to act quickly.

* * *

"Get up," Varys demanded gruffly, resting Eddard from his spot in the corner of the cell. He was worse for wear, having been confined to the cell for nearly a fortnight now. Reeking of shit and piss, Eddard moved lethargically. "We don't have a lot of time," he insisted.

"Varys? Lord Varys?" Eddard blinked, drinking in the light from the torch that the eunuch held up.

"Yes, we must go," he pressed. A timeline had been laid out in front of him. Kihara had only spared him so much time. The guards had been put to sleep by Lengii drugs, but it would not last long. Only a few minutes could be afforded so that an alternating shift didn't notice their comrades were asleep. Varys dragged Eddard out of the cell with him and locked it behind him.

The dungeon possessed an alcove that led to a secret passage. Few knew of the many hidden wonders of the Red Keep and Varys fancied he knew that majority. Other cells rattled as Varys pushed Eddard in front of him, keeping his hood low, as he tightened his fingers around the dirk hidden beneath his sleeve. He wasn't much of a fighter, but he could shank an unsuspecting man if given the chance.

Blood pounded furiously in his ears. He was putting all of his trust into Kihara and her men, which he knew he shouldn't doubt, but this was so dangerous. Varys would not be able to return to his lofty position in King's Landing after this. He would need to go North and join Jaena with Eddard.

"Where is Sansa?" Eddard rasped.

"She will be on the ship," Varys promised as they rounded a corner and he opened the secret passage. The stone wall moved and he glanced behind them, making certain that none of the guards had noticed them. They were all still asleep, but they would be roused soon. Letting Eddard in first, he made certain to secure the wall behind them before releasing a breath he had been holding. The worst of the plans had been completed. Now, they would need to get to the row boat before the guards noticed that Eddard was missing and sounded the alarm.

"Robert... What happened to Robert?" Eddard asked as they walked among the further reaches of the base of the castle. Between the high arched ceilings, dragon skulls were collected and forgotten, remnants of the Targaryen reign.

"Dark magic. He has a Red Priestess giving him private counsel," Varys answered gravely.

"A Red Priestess?"

"A follower of R'hllor the Lord of Light. They use blood magic to try and glean visions from their Lord. The religion is not exceptionally popular in Westeros, but it is in Essos," Varys elaborated, knuckles white where he clutched the torch.

"You know of them? You were originally from across the Narrow Sea, were you not?" Eddard asked.

"I am... And yes, I have first hand experience with the lovely followers of R'hllor. Many wonder how I became a eunuch," he gave a dark chuckle and turned his face to Eddard. "It was a Red Priest who bought me and cut it all off. He threw it into a fire and spoke to it..." a shiver went through him as he remembered.

"I assume he mutilated you for no good reason."

"No," Varys' voice was quiet. "It worked... Whatever he did. It worked. The fire spoke back to him."

Just dredging up the memory made Varys sick to his stomach. The demonic voice coming from the fire had terrified him. He'd made a promise to never deal with them again. Not after what they had done to him and no doubt, countless others. No religion should demand such terrible sacrifices for results. Whatever had been speaking through that fire had been evil, not pious and wise.

They were drawing closer to where the Red Keep led out to the cliffs behind the Red Keep. A chill breeze blew behind the, so strong that Varys' torch guttered and threatened to go out. Both men turned to look at what had caused such a gust, but there was nothing but shadows behind them. Eddard turned back, but Varys kept watching, the cold hand of dread seizing his gut and twisting it. He had felt this way before. He had felt this way when the Red Priest had cut him.

"Run... Lord Stark, run!" Varys' voice hitched and he screamed, his legs churning as quickly as they would allow.

Eddard was still weak from being in a cell, but he took Varys' word and began loping after him. Varys was so petrified that he couldn't stop, but he kept looking back. Moving swiftly through the shadows that his torch cast, was a silhouette. Despite their running, the silhouette was much faster. Varys tripped and fell, the torch flying from his hands. Eddard was just paces away, about to overtake Varys when the shadow stretched high above him.

Varys watched, horrified and paralyzed with fear, as the shadow grabbed Eddard Stark. In every way, it was like a human man, but it had no features, it was made of darkness. Lord Stark struggled in the grasp of the shadow, his eyes stretched wide, uncertain of what or whom was holding him. In the dim light that the torch cast, it was impossible for him to see what apprehended him from behind.

The shadow man drew a hand back and moved to drag it across Eddard's throat. In that moment, Varys was able to move again. He seized the torch and sprinted toward the northman, flailing it wildly as he tried to chase away the shadow. His efforts were in mild vain, the shadow creature had slit Eddard's throat and released him before fleeing. Crumpling to the ground, holding his throat, Eddard's face was a mask of shock.

Varys bent over him, putting his hand on top of Eddard's suppress the flow of blood. The cut was deep, but not so deep that Eddard didn't have a few moments in him.

"Varys..." Eddard croaked thinly as his life blood poured between their fingers. "Jon... Jon..."

"Lord Stark..." Varys whimpered quietly, quaking with fear.

"Jon Snow... is not a bastard..."

Varys leaned closer as Eddard was fading. "What?"

"He is... Aegon Targaryen... Lyanna and Rhaegar... Married... Heir..."

But as he struggled to get these words out, Varys could feel his hand going limp beneath his. When Varys brought his eyes back up to look into the Stark's blue-grey eyes, they were open and lifeless. He swallowed hard, lifting his hand, which was coated in blood. Jon Snow... He would have to dwell more on that one and what Eddard had said, but perhaps those words were just that of a dying man.

Varys struggled to his feet, taking Eddard under the arm so that he could drag him to where the row boat was waiting. The North would want to bury him in Winterfell's crypts.


	10. Jaena V

_Jaena_

* * *

War was coming and the North would be prepared for it. Over the course of the past few months, many things had happened. Winterfell had become a hub for centralizing their numbers, though Jaena wasn't entirely certain that they would be joining the Crown's war to the south. Her doubts still filled her and yet, oddly enough, no demand that she travel to King's Landing had happened. Either King's Landing was ignoring the rumors and growing dragon, or Jaena just never heard of the letters that Winterfell was receiving. With time, Viseyna was growing larger, and by the time the the Red Comet had come, Visenya was the size of a large hound.

The men of the North had attributed that comet to the dragon that they now possessed on their side, the dragon that was growing stronger with each day. Many even brought offerings to Visenya, convinced that she might grow faster with more food. Jaena just knew that Visenya would get fat if allowed to eat all of the livestock she had been presented. Instead, Jaena allowed for the livestock that was brought to be utilized for supplies. Visenya preferred hunting, enjoying the thrill of the chase, rather than sitting around and being brought her food. And while the comet blazed bright, the long tail seeming to cover half the sky, Jaena knew what it truly meant.

Three other dragons had awoken. It was odd to think of how much smaller they would be than Jaena's dragon. Visenya would probably be large enough to ride by the sime Daenerys' dragons were hound sized. Not to mention two of them would be stunted in their growth from being chained within a pyramid. The idea made Jaena sad, enjoying her rides beneath Visenya as she circled through the sky. No dragon was meant to be bound or trapped within any sort of walls. Perhaps that was why Dany's dragons would grow so unruly and wild, she had never put any proper training into them and there had always been too much fear of them getting too far if she let them fly on their own all the time. Not to mention because of how small and vulnerable they were, she was worried about their safety.

Jaena hadn't been worried much about Visenya aside from a Roose Bolton and his men. Now, Visenya was big enough to fend for herself. Her scales weren't impervious, but they acted like a suit of armor. When fully grown, Visenya's defenses would be nigh impregnable. At the size of a large war horse and nearly a twenty foot wingspan, Visenya could hold Jaena's weight for short distances. She might have been big enough to sit on, but dragons were not as stocky as horses. She still had some growing to do before Jaena could properly mount and ride her, but at this size, she was feared and marveled at. Not a soul would dare touch a head upon Jaena's head as long as Visenya was nearby.

Often, Jaena would think back to the months that she had spent trying to get to the haunted forest. Part of her had wondered why the children had tied her up too. Why had she been in the ritual? Proof that Jaena wouldn't burn didn't require a pyre. But Jaena suspected it was more than that, perhaps why Visenya was so receptive to her. The children had given her a gift, a grand connection with Visenya, a deep bond and link that went beyond what Dragon Lords typically possessed. Jaena was no warg, but Visenya understood her and could sense her discomfort. If something was wrong, Visenya knew immediately. If Jaena had quiet doubts of someone, Visenya would too. It was uncanny that intuition that the dragon had, but Jaena also felt as if she could feel Visenya's emotions as well.

When Visenya was hunting, Jaena could feel her heart pounding, the thrill of the chase giving her a burst of adrenaline. And despite how far Visenya might be flying for food, Jaena always knew where she was. Had Lady's sacrifice not only been because she was marked for death, but had she also played some part in this connection Jaena had with Visenya?

But Jaena's time was not only consumed by that of her growing dragon. She had many things to oversee and advising Robb was among those. However, this task was becoming increasingly difficult as Robb insisted on courting her. She had been flattered at first, but the longer this all went on, the more she realized that he was weakened by his affection toward her. From her knowledge from her past life, Jaena was keenly aware that Robb didn't have the best mindset when it came to women. He was naive and inexperienced. He wanted to be experienced, but he also wouldn't lower himself to sleep with a whore has he believed Ned had once done. And the more that Robb harried and distracted her, the more Jaena's stance of not becoming involved with him solidified.

Robb was a good man, there was no doubt about that, but he was still naive like his father. She could coach him as best as she could, but he was stubborn and stuck in his way. A strategic genius he might be, but he wasn't subtle or versed in manipulation. Jaena had to act as his shield from deceit and it was beginning to grow weary on her. But the solace she took from it was that Roose Bolton would not betray Robb as long as Jaena remained impregnable. In that aspect, she also knew that she couldn't take a step down from her position by becoming romantically involved with Robb. There were some already whispering that there were... things... going on behind closed doors. It was only natural. They were close and Robb trusted her, thus the time they spent conferencing alone was often perceived as lustful.

Jaena knew that her image wouldn't last, but perhaps that was why she insisted on giving so many of the men a cold shoulder. If they wanted a dragonlady, they would get one. Even if they believed she was sleeping with Robb, they'd keep those thoughts to themselves for fear of being burned by Visenya. But for those that feared her, thrice as many respected her. Jaena did not want to become what Daenerys would. She was no conqueror. She was here to help.

"My lady," a voice drew her from her thoughts and when she glanced beside her, she saw that Greatjon had rode up beside her. His own horse dwarfed her own and his paw-like hands gripped his reins fast. "We're nearly to Castle Black."

Her own reason for traveling to Castle Black was no entirely pure. She was armed with more than just a dragon. A letter, authentic, and signed by Robb Stark was pressed to her breast beneath the layers of fur. A letter of clemency.

Jaena nodded. She had gone further north before, but she had not been to Castle Black. Her thoughts went out to Jon Snow, wondering how he was faring and how much the path diverged from his original fate, she could not know.

Wind beat above them and a cold rush of snow was sent flying back from the trees surrounding them. Visenya soared higher, gaining altitude, approaching the Wall that broke out in the distance as they left the forest. Viseyna seemed to know that they were not too far from where she had been borne, among the snow and fire. She disappeared into the grey sky and Jaena could feel the dragon's trepidation. Something was going on.

"We need to ride harder," Jaena decided. "The wagons with supplies can catch up when they do. The rest of our men need to go as quickly as they can."

"Do you sense something?" Greatjon asked, keenly aware of the odd connection between Jaena and Visenya. Among the northern houses, House Umber and House Mormont had been the most supportive of her.

"Yes, Visenya is uneasy. Something is not right," Jaena said, pressing her gloves to her temple and drawing in a deep breath. Whatever Visenya saw, Jaena needed to as well. Could the dead already be at the Wall? Had the birth of a dragon made them move quicker? Jaena did not Visenya flying alone.

The Greatjon turned and looked at the northmen behind him. "You heard Lady Velaryon," he snarled. "We ride hard for Castle Black!"

This had been intended to be a drop off supplies, to connect with Castle Black and the Night's Watch, to bring more ore and men to defend against what might be coming... But it seemed that the time of their arrival was more important than Jaena could have presumed. "Go on without me. I will catch up," Jaena told Lord Umber, dismounting her horse and handing him the reins.

Greatjon knew what this meant and nodded sternly. "We will get there are swiftly as we can-" Visenya lunged back into view, roaring furiously, spooking several horses. Many kicked off on their own, sputtering down the road toward Castle Black.

Jaena removed herself from the convoy and approached where the dragon had landed. Her azure scales rippled in the grey light of the day, threatening another snow fall. Her brilliant golden eyes regarded Jaena highly and she dipped her head, spines quivering. Reaching forward, Jaena pressed her gloved hands to the dragon's neck and could feel the heat from within. She had not wanted Visenya to fly north of the Wall on her own. If given the chance, the Night King would try and claim Visenya for his own.

Visenya huffed and Jaena circled round, mounting the dragon and clenching her thighs. The dragon beat her wings, sending snow flying away in a blinding haze, before she took to the air. It took her a few moments to find balance with the added weight on her back, but soon she was riding the wind back toward Castle Black. Beneath them, Jaena could see the shapes of Lord Umber leading their host toward the Wall. They were small and distant, no larger than ants, tiny blips on the grey and white landscape.

Visenya roared again, driving herself higher and higher, so that she could crest the top of the Wall. Jaena's heart pounded, not because of the flight or the fear. Oddly, she felt no fear of falling while on Visenya's back. What she feared was on the other side of the Wall. Visenya was not large enough to take on an army of undead. She still needed at least another year before Jaena would consider riding Visenya that far.

On the other side of the Wall, Jaena could see a city of tents spanning below. Undead would not need tents. Smoke wafted up from cookfires and figures milled below. This was not the Night King and his generals. This was Mance Rayder.

And without the death of Robert Baratheon, Stannis had not come north as a king. Jaena's heart dropped into her feet, wondering if Jon Snow was even still alive. If Mance had set up, then it was possible that Jon had already made his futile attempt as assassination. She ground her teeth, keeping Visenya up high, as they waited for their reinforcements to arrive at Castle Black. When the portcullis had risen was when Jaena let out a small sigh and pressed herself close to Visenya. Scare them, but don't harm them.

Diving through the air, Visenya tucked in her wings and free fell rapidly. Jaena released all trepidation and felt euphoria as the freezing air rushed by her. She closed her eyes, drinking in the peace, snapping them open as Visenya flung her wings back out and raked across the front of the encampment. Her talons scraped through the snow and ice and she let out a furious howl, releasing plumes of fire into the earth beneath her. Screams echoed around them, frightened and astounded by the dragon that had appeared from nowhere.

Visenya whirled herself around and sped back up the line of tents, Jaena's eyes seeking the tent that belonged to Mance Rayder.

Visenya landed harded and snarled at the wildlings that balked from her. Jaena slipped down and spoke clearly to her partne in High Valyrian. If they could avoid harming too many, Jaena preferred it that way. This tactic was to drive them back, the sight of the dragon would be enough to deter them from making an attempt on Castle Black. Visenya didn't need to kill to prove a point.

Her fingers rested on the hilt of her sword as she prowled toward the tent. The ruckus had been so much that Tormund Giantsbane had sputtered out, his icy eyes stretched wide as Jaena prowled toward him, a dragon at her back. He lifted his sword, intending on fighting her, as Jon Snow and Mance Rayder joined him outside the tent.

"It's over Mance," Jaena declared. Hooves pounded around the camp, the northmen that accompanied her had been unleashed on the wildling camp. Her words of sparing as many as possible had only been given to Visenya, not the northerners.

Her eyes went to Jon, who seemed to have aged a handful of years since she last glimpsed him in Winterfell.

Mance looked from the dragon, who was ravaging the area in front of the camp, then to the mounted warriors that were flying between the tents. He then turned his attention back to her and cracked a smile. "I suppose it is," he grabbed the hilt of his sword and for a moment, Jaena believed that he was going to attack her. Instead, he rounded on Jon Snow, who at this point, had no weapon.

Jaena ripped her curved sword from its scabbard, but found that she had done so prematurely. Mance dropped his sword and grinned at Jon Snow. "I didn't know you knew a fancy lady with a dragon. And here I was believing that you were going to try and kill me in that tent without a sword," Mance mused, smirking to himself. "You do know why we're here, don't you?"

"Fire kills wights doesn't it?" Jaena retorted, moving to point her sword to Tormund who was still holding his weapon.

Tormund dropped his, eyes still wild, but he had a bit of a smile on his face.

"I suppose a dragon would be very good at killing wights," Mance remarked thoughtfully, glancing back at Visenya, who had taken back to the sky.

"You know what's out there?" Jon asked, taking a tentative step forward.

"The whole North knows. That's why we're here, Snow. We were delivering supplies and men when we saw this. The Wall is the first defense against the Long Night, Lord Robb knows that as well," Jaena lowered her sword, a horse trotting up toward them.

"Lady Velaryon, we've rounded up as many as we could, but many more fled," Smalljon reported, dismounting his horse and glaring in the direction of the two wildlings and Jon Snow. In spite of his name, Smalljon was very nearly as tall as his giant of a father.

"Good... Not too many casualties, I hope? You Northmen may not like the wildlings, but they could prove to be valuable against what we have coming," Jaena remarked.

"Some wildlings fought us upon arrival. They were cut down... but it's one thing to face unsuspecting and unmounted people. Many were just civilians too, mothers, elderly, children..." Smalljon commented. "My father is seeing that the dead are burned."

"You don't want us killed?" Tormund asked curiously.

"I think I may be able to convince the North long enough that you're not our biggest enemy. But until then, you'll have to cooperate. And Mance Rayder, I'm afraid since you've been the cause of many Brothers' deaths, you'll be held prisoner until a pardon is given... If a pardon is given."

"The wildlings will not fight beneath you under one banner if Mance is not leading," Tormund warned her contemptuously.

Jaena swept her eyes over to him coldly. "I understand that, which is why I stated that I will try and get him a pardon. However, Mance will need to work with us as well. I don't care what your people call him in private, but there will be no declaring him a King south of the Wall. He's a King north of it, not below."

Tormund's face flushed red, but before he could leap to Mance's defense Jaena turned her attention to Smalljon. "Have the both of them bound and brought to cells. Treat them accordingly, they're important among the wildlings, so we will need them if we have any hope of convincing them to work with us, be it temporary. Snow... With me."

Jaena left the two wildlings with Smalljon. If they knew what was wise for them, they wouldn't resist or cause problems. If she could, she was going to make this transition as smooth as possible so they might be able to keep a large number of wildlings from being lost at Hardhome. Killing Mance would see to a rift between them and the wildlings.

Jon followed her silently, glancing up where Visenya was flying, circling around the encampment from hundreds of feet above.

"So Jon Snow, were you trying to get yourself killed?" she asked him sternly.

Jon remained quiet. They hadn't known each other in those brief days that Jaena had been in Winterfell. But Jaena knew what Jon meant to Robb. She also knew of his importance to come in the future and if he had perished trying to assassinate Mance, she didn't know where they would have left them. Building a relationship with the wildlings might have been impossible if not for Jon knowing them.

"Had I known that Robb had sent a dragon to help defend the Wall, I might not have tried," Jon finally said wryly.

"Or there's more to it. What kind of Brothers would have allowed you to walk out here to your death?" Jaena knew the answer, but she couldn't lead on that she knew that Thorne had his doubts about Jon.

"I haven't been the best Brother in the last months... I slept among them, ate with them, killed one of my own to prove that I wanted to be one of them," Jon let out a deep sigh, running his gloved hand through his dark ringlets before gazing at her intently. "I owed them that much. I betrayed them."

"Sounds to me you were playing a double agent to gain more information about their mass migration," Jaena said smoothly. "It seems that not all of the Starks are without tact after all. You managed to convince the wildlings. And you also turned your own Brothers against you... I wonder who might have you now, since you seem to have betrayed both sides."

Jon breathed a dry laugh, as if he rued what was to come after this. "I don't know."

"Perhaps I do," Jaena said, gazing up at the azure beast that surveyed them. "War is coming. From the south and from the north. We are surrounded by enemies on all fronts. If you haven't a place in Castle Black, I can find you a place in Winterfell."

"I took an oath," Jon told her.

"One that you broke when you killed your sworn Brother and joined the wildlings. Don't resign yourself to death so easily Jon Snow, you've a larger part to play in all of this than you assume. Lord Robb would pardon you-"

"I don't want a pardon," Jon told her obstinately.

"You are a Stark, through and through, aren't you? Certainly just as stubborn," Jaena hissed, pinching the skin between her eyebrows before she looked back at Jon. "You may not have a choice. If it comes down to that, I won't let them kill you for what you did."

"I admire your concern, Lady Velaryon, but I also have a choice."

"And I have a dragon," Jaena threatened with a sweet smile. "Robb sent me here to make contact with you. He did not need me to deliver supplies."

"I suppose that is a bit of a low errand for a dragon and her rider," Jon said.

"Lucky for you, though... There are things I need to discuss with you. I have no doubt that you've been disconnected from what's been happening in the far south," Jaena said, looking toward him. She wondered if Visenya would recognize that Jon was a Targaryen.

"There is more aside from King Robert declaring war on Tywin Lannister?" Jon asked warily.

"More? I wish I could say no," she let out a soft and wistful laugh. "Your father, Lord Eddard, has been branded a traitor to the Crown."

Jon stopped walked to stare at her openly. Jaena turned toward him, crossing her arms as he stared. "For what?"

"Releasing the royal children. Tywin Lannister now has them in his custody. Why King Robert believes that Lord Eddard did it is beyond me," Jaena informed him. Eddard Stark was a good man, but he wasn't nearly clever enough to get them out of the city successfully. Jaena suspected it was Baelish who had done it to stir the pot and perhaps frame Ned who had been insistent on just giving Tywin the children to avoid war in the first place.

"And Robb?"

"Robb has diverged from the Crown. Until Eddard Stark and Sansa are returned to Winterfell safely, the North will not aid in the war," Jaena said. "Now we're preparing for what may happen north of the Wall."

"And how did you know what was going on north of the Wall? You knew about wights already when speaking to Mance."

"I do... I told you that I needed to speak with you. I had help getting a dragon, help far north of here," Jaena informed him, cracking a dark smile.

* * *

She wondered what would have become of Castle Black if they had not arrived in Stannis's stead. Would Mance have overpowered the Wall? Would they have an enormous amount to add to the army of the dead? Jaena didn't like to dwell on what could have happened, focusing on what had happened. In addition, she noticed that one big player was missing from Castle Black; Janos Slynt. Without Cersei to raise him and Tyrion to strip him of his power after he betrayed Eddard, since the betrayal had never happened, Janos had never been sent to the Wall. The air within Castle Black was heavy and many Brothers were glaring in Jon's direction, but Alliser Thorne didn't have as large of a lacky as he could have. No, something else had been happening here... Without Janos's muscle, making him a more obvious antagonist and bully, Alliser had been sowing the seeds of doubt around him.

With the events that had recently transpired before their arrival, Castle Black was without a Lord Commander. It had taken the better part of a few days to finally corral the wildlings in and set up a guard shift to watch and feed them throughout the hours of the day. During this time, Jaena sent a letter to Robb, requesting clemency for Jon. She didn't know where the election for a new Lord Commander might go, especially since she wasn't aware of how antagonistic Alliser Thorne had been without Janos Slynt to put him up on a plinth.

If Jon was not elected as Lord Commander, she could put him beside Robb, where Robb had wanted him in the first place. She only hoped that the letter from Robb came within good time, because she was uncertain if she could stay Alliser Thorne for long if he won and wanted Jon's head for what he had done over the past months.

"My lady, you seem perturbed," Dacey Mormont commented, stretching her long legs out, her fingers splayed in front of the fire.

"This isn't the happiest of places," Jaena remarked, glancing between her constituents. She felt like midget beside Dacey, Greatjon, and Smalljon. Yet, they had all been among her most fastidious and trusted supporters. She had won the Umbers upon her arrival and Maege's belief in Jaena's arrival being willed by the Old Gods had rubbed off on her daughter, Dacey.

"No, I suppose not, but..." Dacey trailed off and raised her eyes to meet the other nobles. "What do you think is going to happen to Jon Snow?"

"Nothing as long as I remain here," Jaena promised, but her words felt hollow. Visenya could not descend onto Castle Black very well and if something happened within the protection of the buildings, they would have to rely on their skill with a sword, rather than the dragon that was patrolling the skies. "We came here to deliver materials and yield word from Jon Snow. Now we're going to retrieve him, he will be of better use beside Lord Robb."

"If he accepts. Jon Snow seems to be quite like his father," Greatjon said thoughtfully.

Jaena had been considering much of the same. He didn't quite strike her as much like Eddard as Robb did, but she understood what the Greatjon meant. He meant he had the Stark stubbornness about him, an unwillingness to be pardoned. He wanted to be crucified for what he had done wrong, rather than having it waved away. He would let the guilt eat at him until there was nothing left. It was a stupid way to think and a manner that Jaena knew she was going to have to work at changing. She needed Jon to be the voice for the wildlings without having to worry about his Brothers betraying him because of his actions and sympathy for the wildlings.

"I will try to talk more sense into him," she sighed.

Smalljon chuckled at her, tugging on his beard. "I doubt it will do much good. His obstinance is a northerner trait, not just Stark. But if anyone could do it, perhaps a pretty southron maid..."

Jaena glared at him, but there was no depth to it. Often, the northerners would poke at the fact that she was not one of them. They wondered why she would have been chosen by the Old Gods, but then waved it off to being because she had High Valyrian blood. Jaena knew it was because of neither, it was due to the fact that she had knowledge of the future. However, she had already unraveled that future too drastically by now. She did not know where the road led or what surprises and twists it might throw at them. All she knew was that she had been afforded a huge advantage over everyone else, but that also came with worry that her fate was waiting for her just around the corner.

"I don't know too many southron maids such as myself," Jaena mused.

"I didn't say there were many like you," Smalljon pointed out lightly. "Perhaps that why we like you... but if Jon Snow does not return with us, I don't think he'll last much longer here. I've watched the way the other men of the Night's Watch look at him. Most of them hate him for what he's done. No one can verify if Qhorin Halfhand really gave him the task of infiltrating the wildling ranks, but if he did, he was a clever man. The connections Jon Snow has with the wildlings may allow us to work with them."

"I've seen many wildlings," Greatjon rumbled. "The terrible lot they are. They plunder towns around Last Hearth. Don't take orders from anyone, so it's easy to separate and kill them... However, if this Mance Rayder can really get them to do as he says... I suppose I could put my distrust and dislike of them aside so that we don't all die when the Long Night comes. Each step we take, every action we make, it's led by the Old Gods' will. We intercepted them today not to kill all of them, I truly believe that."

It gave Jaena solace to hear that the stubborn northerners were putting aside their differences to survive the terror that would be coming. However, she gleaned that this acceptance from these three might have to deal with how convinced they were of her divine place in it all. Had Jaena not existed or been sent with a dragon, she doubted that the Umbers and Mormonts would have been so willing to trust the wildlings enough to see that they help fight the Others. Then again, if she wasn't here, they wouldn't even be preparing for this war, nor would they be at Castle Black. Many of them would be dead by now.

When she looked at them, she realized that each of them had been marked for death, and wondered... How would theirs be paid? Would theirs be paid? Or would she have to watch as each of her comrades were taken by death as Brynden had promised. Death would collect, one way or another. She was only certain that she had afforded Robb and Grey Wind life, everyone else was still a gamble. And who knew how long she had afforded them life, that sweet nectar could be stolen from them at a moment's notice.

Jaena felt tired from it all. Part of her wanted to lie down and sleep for days, to attempt and restore the energy she had lost over stress and anxiety. But there was no rest or else she might fall behind and let death claim another.

"Well, I am glad we can set our differences aside for now," Jaena proclaimed, pushing herself to her feet and looking between the three. "But I will go find Jon Snow and see what I can do about his morbid fascination with getting himself killed here."

Loading her heavy cloak onto her shoulders, she drew in the midnight fabric and braced herself for the biting wind. With winter approaching, she knew the temperature here would continue to climb down. Even so, the chill reminded her of the time she had spent in the wastes north of the Wall. She wondered if she would live long enough to know the true cold of winter.

Night had fallen on Castle Black, the pathways lit by torches, which seemed to put out a scant amount of heat. Her eyes raked the perimeter, wondering if Jon would be inside. If what Smalljon had said was true, she doubted he would be around his Brothers. Perhaps Samwell Tarly, Grenn, and Pyp still trusted him, but the support of three would not win his life. Her eyes caught a dark shadow flickering between the lights, a waist high silhouette flanking him. She knew the shadow beside him was a dire wolf, there was no doubt about it, as she had seen many wolves at night on occasion being among the Starks in Winterfell.

Jaena strode after them, catching up as they boarded the lift to the top of the Wall. It took Jon Snow a moment to realize who had followed him, his apprehension clear as he observed her. "Lady Velaryon," he said tersely against the whistling wind as the cage began climbing.

"Jon Snow," she returned pleasantly, drawing her hands into toward her. Even though the layers of fur, they were still chilled and stiff. "Lovely evening, isn't it?"

"You have an odd idea of lovely," Jon said, still scrutinizing her.

"Have you considered what I said before, anymore?"

Jon pursed his lips and did not speak for a few moments. Finally, "I will remain where I am needed."

"And if that is no longer the Night's Watch?" she asked him curiously.

Jon did not speak after that and she knew that she'd spoiled the conversation for that moment. She backpedaled mentally, trying to come up with a new topic, perhaps one that would draw him out of his shell.

The lift grated to a halt at the top of the wall, where the wind was at its zenith in height and strength. Jaena could feel Visenya in the distance, she had settled on the southern part of the Wall, clinging to the top, and keeping an eye on Castle Black from a short distance where the men did not patrol. If Jon Snow had been hoping for some solitude with his dire wolf, he would not get it.

Jaena followed him off the lift and down between the braziers that illuminated and warmed small sections. One had to nearly stand upon the fires to feel its warmth, for the wind would chase it away just a few paces back.

Jon seemed to relinquish the fact that he would not shake her off and found a distant brazier that overlooked the edge of the Wall. There were no bannisters to keep a man from falling and it would be so easy to just push someone right over the edge. Heights did not bother Jaena, even the immense height from which she leered down did not give her a healthy sweat.

Jon peered down into the dark distance, the snow brightened by the light of the moon which refracted off the pale landscape.

"How far do you think they are?" Jaena asked him solemnly.

Jon considered this for a time, his eyes scanning the distant tree line. "Still far... but that doesn't matter. Eventually they will get here and we must be prepared."

"We will be as prepared as we can be," Jaena assured him.

"That's still not that reassuring," Jon frowned, crossing his arms, brooding. "Why did Robb choose you?"

"Aside from the obvious reasons?" Jaena arched a brow at him whimsically.

"I didn't take my brother for one who prized his counsel on a comely face."

"I was referring to Visenya, my dragon, but if that's the route you'd prefer to turn toward," Jaena stood up straight and leered at him with her lavender eyes. "What are you doubts?"

"Why help the Starks? Why help the North? Perhaps my father helped you when the Lannisters were uncouth to you, but it in no manner means the debt you had to pay was that of a dragon. Why didn't you just return home?"

Her lips curved up wryly at the question that had only been asked by few. Why? "I have my own reasons, but I believe in your brother. I do not believe in many people south of the Twins and... I knew that a dragon would be critical when facing an undead army. Dragon fire can destroy so many of them, perhaps even the Others."

"And your own reasons being what?" Jon pressed.

"I do not appreciate your doubt. I have been by your brother's side for months now," Jaena's tone bordered a low growl as she glowered at the landscape in front of them.

"Are you seeking repayment for your servitude? Perhaps becoming the next Lady Stark-"

"This is not quid pro quo, I am here on my own choice, Jon Snow," she snapped, losing her poise and manner all in that brief moment. The rage had flooded her like a boiling fire, coarsing through her veins and chasing away the chill. She had felt this before and it would come in waves, as if the magic from having a dragon has suddenly instilled her with a new temper she had never possessed before. She let out a heavy breath and narrowed her eyes. "I have no intention of marrying your brother, even if he asks me to. I am not a suitable match for him. I have sworn myself to House Stark, he would gain nothing in marrying me, since he already has my service. He should marry a lady that would solidify an alliance, someone much softer..." And undamaged. Jaena was damaged goods. She was soiled and even a dragon could not change that.

"I think you have a softer heart than you care to admit, Lady Velaryon."

Jaena snorted indignantly, crossing her own arms defensively. "The North breathed life into my dragon and I know what that life is intended for. I told Robb of what waited in the North and when I returned with a dragon, no one doubted that wights and Others could exist. Why would they? The magic that perched on my shoulder was living proof that a reckoning was coming. Many saw it as a good omen, that the Old Gods were giving us the tools to survive but..." she trailed off and recalled the Three-Eyed Crow. She had ruined so much, with each word she said to Jon Snow, it was possible she was ruining more.

Jon leaned on her words. "But?"

"It's not as magical as everyone thinks it is," Jaena whispered in slight defeat. "I know things. Things that have happened, that were supposed to happen, that I've changed..." she trailed off, wondering if she was sounding to cryptic, but she couldn't tell Jon Snow the whole truth.

"Perhaps the cold has gotten to you, Lady Velaryon," Jon told her with a bit of an arrogant smirk.

Jaena's eyes flashed. "You know nothing, Jon Snow."

The smug expression fell right off of Jon Snow's face and he paled, taking a step back from her. Ghost perked up, his ears flattening, as he read his master's emotion. The wolf snarled soundlessly, baring his long and dagger sharp teeth.

"And even if you continue to doubt me, I'll make certain you also don't land yourself into an early grave. I've already achieved that with Robb thus far," she grumbled, turning away from the ledge and stalking down the length of the Wall so she could find the lift down from this freezing.

Jaena wondered if she had made a mistake in saying those words to Jon. When Melisandre had done it, she knew the effect it had on Jon Snow. However, Jaena had lashed out in anger, desperate to prove that she knew more than he believed. According to Jon, she was doing this purely for personal gain. Robb was quick to believe her, but it seemed it would take convincing his counterpart. And if Jaena had to do that by frightening him to prove a point, perhaps that was the only way. Her stomach turned, using knowledge and fear could not but a crutch for the future lest she also wanted to be labeled a mad Valyrian.

She had just reached the lift when she heard Jon behind her. "Lady Velaryon," he breathed, slightly winded from the long strides he had taken to catch up with her. "How..."

"I told you, Jon Snow, that I know things. Not all things, but enough. I met a being in the haunted forest, the one who granted life to my dragon, and he shared with my many things. Things that were meant to be, things that have now changed, and I know about you and I know of Ygritte. Even if what you had done was all in the name of the Night's Watch, you did love her... I am sorry for what happened."

Jon was clearly disturbed by her knowledge. "And if we do survive this... What happens after? After there is no need for a dragon and war-"

Jaena let out a nasty laugh. "You think that it will all stop if we survive the Long Night? No, war will not stop, though it might be placed on hold. A power grows in the east, a power with two more dragons than I have... And she wants Westeros for herself as the rightful heir to the Iron Throne. Or, at least, that's what she's been told all her life. And she will come here and try to take it with blood and fire. My hope then is that I can minimize the amount of damage, but I don't know how well Visenya will fare against three other dragons."

"A Targaryen survives?"

"And some then," Jaena shrugged. "But there will never be an end to war. Maybe, just maybe, if I survive until the end, I'll go to Leng or Essos. I haven't put too much thought into it, but for now, I will remain where I am needed. Then, I'll go where my sails take me."

"What if she helps us? What if we have four dragons to fight to survive the Long Night?"

"Then the odds are better, but what after?" Jaena arched a brow at him, posing the question. "No one thinks of the after. It's always the attack plan and preparation, never what challenges that may arise after."

"Who was it you saw?" Jon asked her.

Jaena smirked at him, her gloved hands wrapping around the chains that held the lift up. "The last greenseer, the Three-Eyed Crow. He is also a warg, much like yourself."

"I'm not a warg," Jon said immediately.

Jaena arched a brow at him. "All of the Stark children are wargs. Your dire wolves are proof of that... Just none of you have embraced the idea that there might be a bit of magic in the fact that these wild animals are so tame beneath your tutilage. Perhaps if you open your eyes, you'll be able to see through Ghost's as well."

* * *

The day for election of a new Lord Commander came and Jaena was trying to find a position that would give her a good observation point. Would Jon Snow be elected as the next leader? Ever since their discussion, he had been more wary of her, but she supposed that was to be expected. More or less, she was astounded that he would even talk to her. Melisandre he had avoided like the plague, but she wasn't here supporting Stannis, she was here on count of Robb.

Discussion on the situation had just begun when she felt a light tap on her shoulder. Behind her was Dacey Mormont with a few items in hand. "I think it best if you do not read these in here," the Mormont murmured in her eat.

Jaena pursed her lips and nodded, standing up and slipping out of the hall. She unfurled the letters that were from Robb, which were of an exceeding length, but immediately understood why Dacey had not wanted her to read these during the election. Her mouth dried and Jaena felt light of head as she leaned against a nearby wooden beam for support.

_'To the Night's Watch and my loyal bannermen,_

_I am sending this letter with regret. A darkness has fallen over the South. Lord Eddard Stark stood accused of treason and was murdered by the hand of King Robert, without a fair trial. Robert Baratheon was not sated by the death of his old, beloved friend, and took that of my sister, Lady Sansa Stark, as well. Their bodies have been returned to Winterfell by an anonymous ally from the south. _

_Due to King Robert's inability to keep his word or give right to a fair trial, the North here renounces it alligiance and considers itself a separate land and country from the rest of the Seven Kingdoms. From henceforth, Winterfell has been restored as the capitol of the North, and I, Robb Stark of Winterfell, named the King of the North. _

_Please be aware that all supplies and men that can be afforded will be sent to the Wall for support. At Winterfell, we are gathering an army for the approaching threat of the Long Night and intend to be prepared for the challenges ahead, even if we must face them alone. I do not ask that the Night's Watch takes sides, as the oaths that you have taken mean you belong to none other than the Watch, however, as the rest of the North is in my regency, be aware that changes will be coming, along with the temporary assimilation of the wildlings into the Gift. _

_Additionally, I hereby decree that Jon Snow is released of his oaths and duty as a member of the Night's Watch. He is to be given into the custody of Lord Umber to be transported back to Winterfell. You will find the royal decree of clemency along with this letter.'_

Beneath, she did find the sealed and gilded decree, but the news that was contained neatly in the letter made her quake. Even if it sounded formal and smooth, she could only imagine how Robb was fairing. When Eddard had been declared a traitor it had eaten at him, but death? Jaena hadn't known that Robert had it in him to hurt Eddard, especially to this extent. Joffrey wasn't even in King's Landing and yet, Eddard still hadn't lasted very long. She wondered what had happened and if Varys had tried to get Eddard out of King's Landing like she had asked.

All of the plans that she had laid out had fizzled away, because just as Brynden had said, death would be paid in the end. But Sansa? Who had Sansa paid for? She would never know unless the Three-Eyed Crow paid her another visit and decided to give her that information. Her stomach churned and she felt ill. Cersei wasn't alive and Eddard wasn't either now. What could she have done to avoid this? Where had she gone wrong? She didn't think Eddard being in King's Landing without Cersei there was a big risk. If only Robert had just given Tywin Lannister his grandchildren and none of this would have happened...

Whatever discussions were ongoing inside the hall, Jaena couldn't bring herself to go in, the heavy news weighing her down because she knew she'd have to share it with Jon Snow and the new Lord Commander. She was still trying to grasp the gravity of the situation that had occurred in the south. Now, they had no pull or eyes within the court, she doubted that Varys had stayed and would be astounded if he had managed to get by unscathed through the entire ordeal. If anyone had delivered the corpses of Sansa and Eddard, it would have been Varys.

A loud break of applause drew her attention and Jaena straightened, stumbling toward the hall door where Dacey was standing by. She looked down at Jaena and gave a wry smile, as if she knew the heaviness of the words and was thankful she only had to deliver them to Jaena.

"Thank you, thank you," Ser Alliser Thorne had risen and there were a handful of nonplussed Brothers in the crowd. "And for the beginning of my reign as Lord Commander of the Night's Watch, I will deal with traitors as I see fit," he drew in a breath, clearly elated that he would finally have a chance to take at Jon Snow and not have anyone tell him otherwise.

"Congratulations, Ser Alliser," Jaena broke in, striding toward where he was standing. She could feel the heat of the glares from the Brothers who were eagerly awaiting the punishment that Alliser was itching to give out. "Or should I say, Lord Commander Thorne?" she held forward the letters that she had just read, shoving them unceremoniously into his hands before offering him a tart smile.

Thorne scanned over the letter, taking a few minutes to mull over the meaning, a scowl and frown creasing lines into his face as he clutched the decree from Robb. "Well, Lord Commander, are you going to share the contents of the letter with your men?" she demanded.

Alliser opened his mouth to speak, but the confidence he had just possessed died in the back of his throat.

"The North has declared itself its own sovereign nation, separate from the Seven Kingdoms with Robb Stark of Winterfell as our king. King Robb had decreed that Jon Snow be released from his vows and into the custody of Lord Umber. Additionally, Mance Rayder, Tormund Giantsbane, Mance's child, and Val are to also be released into Lord Umber's care, as they will be brought to Winterfell on behalf of the King's request. Otherwise, the rest of the wildlings are to be let to the Gift, where Lady Dacey Mormont will supervise their acclimation," Jaena declared, her words immediately causing discord in the men around her.

"He's getting a bloody pardon?!"

"What the fuck!"

Clearly, many of them had been gunning for Jon Snow. While the hall broke out into disdain and irritation, Alliser Thorne glanced up from the parchment, scowling intently at her. "Now, Lord Commander Thorne, are you going to uphold the king's term of bargain? Because just as quickly as we brought supplies, we could take them back."

And they had brought plenty of supplies, including live animals and wine. Even if the quality wasn't of the top tier, it was echelons better than what the Night's Watch had previously and increased their quality of life tenfold. With what they might be facing in the future, enjoying the small amounts of time they have available to themselves would approve morale and perhaps even work ethic.

"I suggest you take those that you want and depart Castle Black as soon as possible then, my lady," Alliser said finally through gritted teeth.

"Thank you, Lord Commander," she said cheekily before turning to look toward the occupants of the hall. They had not elected Jon Snow, a change she could not have predicted. She wondered what small workings had gone into this and what relationships he had that may have been affected from decisions she had made. She raised her eyes and looked toward Jon Snow, who was surrounded by familiar faces, all of which were drawn and dismayed, but not for the same reasons as the other Brothers. "Jon Snow," she said thinly, approaching the small throng of he and his friends.

Jon's heavy lids were leering toward her, ruing the fact that she had taken from him what he had wanted to face on his own. Whatever idiotic reasons he had for wanting to face the trial he thought he deserved, Jaena would not allow it, knowing that the death of Jon would effect Robb negatively. Especially since Eddard had now died... Robb needed Jon.

"Come, there is some additional news that I must share with you... In private," Jaena said coolly, his companions looking toward him with curiosity, as if Jaena might secretly professed her love to Jon behind closed doors. If only the news were so cheerful, perhaps then it would make this conversation much easier.

"Other news, my lady? What other news-" Jon was about to get smart with her, but she cut him off with a pensive glare, like a mother trying to quiet her child in a sept with a chilling look.

Jon followed her out, his shoulders sagging in slight defeat as he believed his retribution had been stolen from him. Dead men were not useful and Jaena had use for Jon. She pulled him aside into one of the rooms that were being utilized by she and the other nobles that had come to Castle Black. With the privacy of a door and drawn windows, Jon openly glared at her, crossing his arms and standing close to the mantle that held only embers as the room had not been utilized that day.

"And what is so important that you felt necessary to take away some of the last precious moments I have with my Brothers, now that you've accomplished what you've wanted?" Jon inquired tartly.

Jaena took no satisfaction in what she had to tell him, but it wiped the glib expression right off of his face. "Your father, Eddard Stark, is dead."

Just as she predicted, the expression slipped right off his face along with his composure. Jon did not speak, instead he just stared at her, as if the idea of his hero dying was absolutely perposterous.

Jaena let her words sink in before her own nerves got the better of her. She began to pace the length of the room, rubbing her chilled fingers together as she wracked her mind. "King Robert did not give him a fair trial. I do not know how or why aside from the charges that Robert had laid at his feet, but even then it still perplexes me. How King Robert could have-" the words died on her lips as she imagined the fat and jolly man. He was a bit hedonistic, if not depressed from the weight of the crown on his brow, but she did not think him the type to turn around and betray Ned to the point of such vindictiveness that he would have him killed. "And Sansa..." her voice cracked. She knew Jon hadn't been too close to his half-sister, but Jaena had believed that the girl would be spared most of Joffrey's cruel taunting. Now she was simply dead. "... Is gone too."

They remained plunged in silence that was just as cold and powerful as the icy tides of the ocean that flanked Eastwatch. Yet, as Jaena paced anxiously and Jon remained leaned against the mantle, an odd understanding settled between them.

Finally, after long minutes had passed, Jon finally spoke. "Robb needs me," he murmured hoarsely, with a more profound comprehension than in the past. There was no hope in restoring Eddard to the North aside to bury him in the crypts.

Jaena stopped pacing and glanced toward him, snaring herself into a staring match with Jon. She remained across the room, gazing into his dark eyes before she spoke. "Yes, he does. More than ever." It was not a woman's comfort that would be solace to Robb in the night and it was not that solace that Jaena felt she should provide him with. Rather, he needed a strong hand and Jon could be no better.

"To Winterfell."

* * *

The roots were singing, digging deep, curved around flesh and stone as it created a gnarled throne of ivory. Entrapped within was a familiar and cool face, a face that she had not truly comprehended entirely. But as she looked upon he and his pale hair, she recalled that they had more in common than she remembered. They shared blood, the blood of Old Valyria. However, the rumors of his dark magicks had soiled his tale, even the word that he might have killed his beloved sister.

Brynden raised a thin finger and the image of his roost vanished, moving rapidly as if they were soaring above the tundra from a bird's eye. Swiftly and deftly, unseen by the creatures below, they climbed until it got colder and more morose. But it was not growing cold because of how far north, but rather the increase in altitude. They were climbing up toward the Frostfangs, toward one of the tallest peaks. Great and white, the monoscape would have been blinding in the daylight.

"Here..." The words reverberated in her head, echoing like the inside of a large cave.

The wind howled like a furious pack of wolves, terrible and frigid, and she saw the glint beneath the constantly moving snow, torn apart by the constantly moving air. This high, the wind would never cease howling. The hilt of a sword was visible, gleaming in the moonlight, from its craggy perch fixed into the stone of the mountainside. How it had gotten there was beyond the knowledge of any human.

"One for another, steel pays for steel. It is time she was in the hands of another dragonrider. She thirsts."


	11. Jon I

_Hello my dear readers! I would like to thank you for following along and giving me such wonderful reviews! I have answered a few of you and would like to weigh in to clear up some confusion other readers who did not get a private message answer to sate them. _

_The timeline is warped in this fiction, which when compared to the books is VERY confusing. I am aware of this. Slight differences to begin with are ages, as I have aged up the eldest Stark children. Due to these 'older ages' of characters like Robb, Jon, and Arya, it should be taken into consideration that some events are more delayed and others are occurring at a much more rapid pace (partially due to a dragon being born before Dany's and sparking the reignition of magic). This storyline will not be entirely conducive with the books, as you might have noticed a big deal was skipped in the latest chapters. Since Jaena's appearance has changed so much, much of what would have happened did not (mostly due to Jaime and Cersei's deaths), thus we had to move past that. Most of what is to come will be past that of ADWD, although Dany's storyline is mostly unblemished due to being so far from Westeros. That being said, some characters might be different than you recall, since the events leading up to now, never shaped or molded them. There are also characters that may be mentioned, but glossed over as it does not revolve around the focus of this story. _

_Regarding Leng and YiTi, there will certainly be MUCH more to come from that topic. I really enjoy the idea of bringing their lore into Westeros, but I don't want to throw it at you all at once. It will be brought in with Lengii characters as well as Jaena who has studied many of their traditions. Remember, YiTi has existed much longer than Old Valyria and thus, they have many exotic magicks that Westerosi people are not aware of. I don't want to spoil too much, because you'll read it eventually, but if you know about YiTish religion, you might know that they predicted the original Long Night, thus them fashioning magicked swords to fight the Others would not be unthinkable. Also, if there is anything in Asian culture that you particularly love or would like to see in the future as I mold the Northern Lengii culture (which I am basing off of Japan/Vietnam/other Asian islands) and Yitish culture (China), then please drop it in the reviews and I'll try to bring aspects in!_

* * *

_Jon_

* * *

For the crimes he had committed, it seemed there would be no end to what he would lose. He knew that it could never truly be with Ygritte, but he had never thought he'd have to stand over her dead body. Nor had he imagined that his father and half-sister would be soon to follow after in demise. The pain and shock of such truths had shaken him to his core. Even if he knew in his every fiber that he should be paying for his betrayal to the Brothers and then Ygritte, he couldn't leave Robb stranded. But among all things, Jon was worried about the counsel that Robb was seeking. He still wasn't certain that Jaena Velaryon could be entirely trusted. He had allowed himself to be wooed by a somewhat pretty face not too long before, only to have his heart ripped out.

Jaena knew things, things there was no way of her knowing. You know nothing... He shuddered at the thought of this lady knowing many things or the future as she proclaimed. Yet, even in light of this unsettling development, there was a comfort in knowing that they had a dragon on their side. Even if he could not predict or estimate her wants, he suspected that for now it was in line with his own.

"Where is Lady Jaena?" Jon asked, astride a borrowed gelding. He was flanked closely by familiar faces, though they weren't those that he highly preferred. Beside him was Mance, Val holding his child, and Tormund. On the opposite side were the Umbers. who were tense as the wildlings rode behind them. The bulk of the wildlings would diverge with Dacey Mormont to go to the Gift.

"Lady Velaryon said that she would meet us back at Winterfell," the Greatjon remarked stiffly. The original warmth he had experienced from them had slipped away like sand in the wind when Jaena was not around. They were oddly distant from him, as if they were still trying to gauge him.

Jaena and Visenya had been gone upon waking. He had also asked Dacey the same question and was met by the same stiffness. He wondered why they were so loyal to her, but then again he hadn't been among Winterfell's politics and perhaps there was more than he was missing. Clearly, the Umbers and Mormont were quite taken with the Velaryon. The idea of a pack of northerners being so fond of a southron lady, especially that with the dragon blood, would be so loyal. What did they see that Jon had yet to experience?

"Saw that dragon of hers take off last night," Tormund remarked.

"You did?" Jon turned toward the redhead, hoping for more information.

"A bit distracting that is... Big dark wings, blocking out the light of the moon. I was out for a piss when it took off, sweeping high to crest the Wall before disappearing north of it."

North of the Wall? Jon's stomach turned and he wondered just what Jaena was thinking. Bringing the dragon north of the Wall risked crossing the Night King and the army of undead. Was she going to see where they were? Was she going to try and take a chunk of their numbers? Jon didn't know if he should be terrified of losing the dragon or impressed that the Velaryon had such gall to travel on her own.

"If anyone is suited north of the Wall right now, it'll be the one with a dragon," Val shrugged, cradling the newborn babe of Mance in her arms. The child was thickly swaddled in dark, striped fur a shadowcat.

Jon spent a moment regarding the fair wildling before listing his eyes forward. He was still coping with the idea of being relinquished of his duties. There was a lingering edge of disappointment in himself, wondering how the men in Winterfell would view him for what he had done. No doubt, his endeavors would be made known as he was in arms with the wildlings. Each step they took closer to Winterfell, Jon wondered what was waiting for him. Even if he doubted himself, the other northerners, specifically the Umbers had little problem with him.

Mance Rayder was mellow and unapologetically himself. With his lute he was able to impress the soldiers and even make them laugh. His uncanny ability to win over people with his charisma was not lost south of the Wall. He almost made them forget that he was a turncoat and now the leader of the wildlings. As he had been requested, he made certain that those of his people with him began learning the slight etiquette nuances of Westeros and also did not refer to himself as a king. Truthfully, Mance had never crowned himself, but he never shoved the title as King Beyond the Wall away.

Even so, the Northmen around them still regarded he and Val as some sort of royalty, despite the fact that these elected titles did not carry the same weight north of the Wall as they did south. Val did not consider herself a princess, but she was treated as such. Even if Mance was a wildling king, technically, to the others, he was still a king and was to be afforded a decent amount of respect.

The days slipped by, mostly because Jon was anxious the closer they grew to Winterfell. He knew he'd have to truly acknowledge the death of his father there, see how his family had changed in the years passed. He also wondered how he would be received by Catelyn, considering the circumstances. For all of the putting off that he yearned for, Winterfell spanned in front of him, capped in a thin sheet of snow.

Dotting the once verdant hills that lolled around the keep were tents and cookfires. An army had been assembled around the grounds and massive double walls of Winterfell. Banners flew from many houses, so many that it astounded him. The white sun of Karstark, the fist of Glover, the merman of Mandeerly, the bear of Mormont, the lizard of Reed, the moose of Hornwood, the flayed man of Bolton. Among those that he identified, there were many more banners hiding at a distance that he could not make out.

When he had heard that Robb was working to raise an army, he had never believed that it would all be so densely packed around Winterfell. Caravans were travelling the roads and supplies were being flooded into Winterfell, creating an atmosphere of commerce and bustle that Jon had never witnessed. There were even foreigners, clearly peddlers and merchants, that had taken the eastern roads to ferry supplies to sell in Winterfell as they would fetch a high price since Winterfell was working diligently to make certain all of the men outside and inside their gates could be provisioned for a good time.

Even if what they required was food and ale, these merchants brought with them extravagant bolts of cloth, Myrish lace, wines from Essos, and jewelry from Lys. Now, Winterfell truly seemed the capital of the North and winter town was filled to the brim with visitors and northerners who had migrated there to prepare for the upcoming winter. Jon's eyes looked between the stalls where foreign merchants had set up shop and were trying to sell their exotic wares to soldiers who milled around.

Northerners were always wary of outsiders, but the flow of travelers must have been steady, especially if word of the North amassing an army in one place and had suddenly placed a crown upon the head of one of their own. But then he saw it, his eyes widening at the sight of soldiers in colors that did not belong to the North; aquamarine tunics were drawn over silver plated armor, of a much higher quality than that the Northmen preferred to wear. Emblazoned on their chests was a silver seahorses and many carried pikes and polearms with a cutlass at their waist. Velaryons were sailors, but it seemed they had bothered to put their armor on as they were so much further inland than they might have preferred.

Their convoy continued, Val and Tormund marveling at how busy it was winter town.

"I can see why you might have left for the Wall. It's very busy here," Val remarked, her eyes flicking from side to side as folks pressed close to their horses, much too close for comfort.

"Winterfell was certainly not this busy last I was here," Mance said, his brows rising as he glanced between the erected stalls.

"Nor I," Jon admitted. "War brings all sorts of people looking to earn coin before the storm hits."

"They'll leave when word comes from the Wall that the Others have arrived," Mance agreed. "But all this trade will certainly benefit Winterfell and it's new king."

"Coin doesn't stop the Long Night," Jon reminded him.

"No, but it pays for soldiers and provisions," Mance shrugged. "That is... unless this is all unregulated and there are no taxes."

The thoughts of that made Jon nervous. He had never been much of one to count coins or worry about the books, but now that Mance mentioned it, he hoped that with the influx of all of these exotic goods there were tariffs and taxes in place to return a fraction of what was spent back into Winterfell and the North.

"It looks like those men are collecting coin," Tormund grunted, gesturing to the Velaryon soldiers.

Jon gazed in their direction, taking note of a piece of parchment they had in their hand, accompanied by a much smaller steward who was drafting ledgers and glancing at the books that each stand was keeping. He would calculate how much was owed and the soldiers would see it delivered.

They were upon the gates to Winterfell before much more time could be spent looking among winter town. The castle remained untouched from how he remembered it, aside from a blanket of snow that had not been there when he departed. The tall towers stood solemn like soldiers eternally on duty. Stepping behind the double stone walls had an odd comfort to it as well as warmth that the Wall had never possessed. Waiting within, the faces might have been different, but the home was still the same, as were many of the core staff.

Their arrival had been noted and a party was waiting in the courtyard for them to arrive. Eyes listed toward the sky as if they were expecting a spectacular arrival from the Velaryon. Instead, eyes fell back down to inspect those that were in front of them.

Jon dismounted, looking to where the Stark family had once stood, whole and young, for King Robert Baratheon to arrive. Standing at the head of the line was Robb, who was no longer the bright eyed young man greeting the king. He stood in a dark ensemble of fur and boiled leather, Ice hanging at his waist, when it should have been at Eddard's. His dark auburn ringlets curled over his ears and against the nape of his neck, some brushing his brow from where a bronze crown decorated with nine black iron spike. There were runes etched into the metal, but Jon could not make them out. Grey Wind kept close to his master's flank, just as enormous and powerful in appearance as Ghost.

Catelyn was not next to Robb. In fact, she was missing from the line entirely.

Next was Arya, who had shot up a few inches and was dressed comfortably. Perhaps it was because Catelyn was not there that Arya had been allowed to wear trousers and slim fitting coat that highlighted her slender and slim frame, Needle hanging at her waist. Nymeria stood sternly beside her.

Bran's hair had gotten a bit long, his auburn ringlets brighter and more fiery than Robb's. He was starting to become a man, his chest filling out slightly and he was no longer losing the battle of height with Arya, as he surpassed her by a few inches. A sword also was hanging from Bran's hip and he had adorned himself in a similar fashion to Robb with dark boiled leathers, trying to emulate his elder brother.

Between he and Rickon, their wolves stood. Summer was the most mild mannered of those that stood there, polar when compared to Shaggy Dog who was leering at Ghost and seemed to be itching to move around.

Rickon stood resolute, but he was still quite young. He was dressed more comfortably, in thick, fur padded attire. He had no sword at his waist and his hair was shorn short as if it had been done just that day.

"Brother," Robb greeted, taking a step forward to meet Jon.

They embraced and Jon was overcome for a moment. Part of him believed that this interaction wouldn't happen for a great many years if it happened at all. The doubts he had leading up to his arrival washed away like writing in the sand as high tide came in. Just a small part of him wished that Ygritte had lived to see this, to come with him to Winterfell to see the home he had described to her. She had thought a tower was a castle, he could only imagine what she might think of Winterfell.

Their reunion was bittersweet as they broke apart and Jon glanced toward his other half-siblings... All but one. Even if he had never gotten along with Sansa, that did not mean he had wished her dead. His stomach was uneasy and he could almost envision her and Ned looking on, smiling at him, happy that he had returned to Winterfell to rejoin them.

"I... May I pay my respects?" he asked Robb, keenly aware that the other three Stark children would want to hear stories from him, but he knew that he needed to visit the tombs beneath Winterfell first.

"Yes," Robb replied shortly, glancing toward Arya. "Make certain that our new guests are provisioned properly. I believe the King Beyond the Wall and his family are here." Robb stepped to the side to glance between Tormund and then to Mance, as if he was trying to discern which was which. He decided on Mance. "If you would excuse us for a time."

"Of course, we're all weary," Mance said simply, helping Val down from the horse, sheltering his son in the crook of his other arm.

Robb nodded gratefully and led Jon toward the crypts. Jon's breath hitched and he could hear his blood rushing in his ears. His brother took up a torch as they descended and Grey Wind scouted ahead, unafraid of the shadows and darkness that spanned ahead of them.

Ghost brushed against his fingertips, nuzzling into his palm reassuringly as they descended into the abyss and among the undead. The most recent deaths in the Stark family were not as deep as those who were ancient ancestors. They reached the area where Sansa and Eddard lay. His father's statue flanked Lyanna's and was opposite of Sansa's. The pit in his stomach grew and he knew that he had felt this way before. He'd felt it when Ygritte was lying in front of him.

Robb was standing with his back to the descending path to the rest of the crypt so that he could glance between both Eddard and Sansa's graves. He closed his eyes and remained silent as Jon approached Ned's place of rest. His fingers brushed the stone casket, smooth to the touch, unblemished, holding the body of his father. Ned had promised to tell Jon who his mother was when he returned back North... It seemed so unimportant now.

"I... still don't really understand why this happened," Jon admitted, breaking the absolute silence of the tombs that neglected to reflect all of the bustle that was occurring in Winterfell above them.

Robb opened his eyes and turned his frame to only face his father's place of rest. "Evil magicks," he said cryptically.

Jon's brows furrowed and he lifted his hand from the stone, glancing over at his brother, wondering if he had heard clearly. "What do you mean?"

"From what I understand... King Robert is not himself. He is being manipulated by a Red Priestess. Someone framed our father and she sowed his doubt, he was going to execute father."

"Was going to? It appears as if he was successful."

"Not in the respect you believe. I saw his body," Robb murmured, touching the stone and drawing in a deep breath. "The friend that delivered he and Sansa explained what transpired. He saw it with his own eyes. He also has experience with the evil that those that follow the Lord of Light can wreak.

"He was escaping King's Landing. They both were. But creatures of shadow killed them."

"Are you certain that your 'friend' didn't put an end to him?" Jon pointed out.

"There were multiple witnesses for Sansa's death. She was already on their ship bound out of King's Landing when she was assassinated. They all described the same spectre, a man of shadow... I doubt King Robert in his state of delirium would have returned them to us, as well as Ice. And if these new allies of ours were to deliver them at all, why would they create such a preposterous story to explain their deaths? I could see the horror in their eyes when they recounted what they had witnessed... I have seen many miracles since their arrival. One of them is a Mystic from Leng, she and her companions are certainly queer, but their insight and tactics fit well with the ensemble we currently possess."

Jon suppressed a sigh, but who was he to question this. Everything that they thought they knew about magic and dragons being legend was unraveling. Dragons existed and with it came the resurgence of magic. Maester Aemon had mentioned as much when he had heard of the bloody comet flying high in the sky. Jon just wished that he wasn't fighting a battle against forces he did not understand and shadow men sounded absolutely terrifying. What had his father thought when he was attacked by this dark assassin?

Still, Jon was not as accepting of these 'truths' as Robb was. He wondered what had happened to Robb to make believe these stories. The Robb he knew would have questioned this, would have possessed a reasonable sense of doubt. Had the Velaryon dug her claws into him more than he could have predicted?

"I sound mad, don't I?" Robb asked quietly with a small chuckle.

Jon wondered if he had been thinking out loud, glancing over at him. "A bit."

Robb let out a long sigh and stepped back. "There was a time when I would have questioned all of this, but... Ever since the Lengii have arrived and all of the foreign merchants... Jon you're going to see things you never believed could happen. I understand it's difficult to take me at my word now, but I am not unfounded in my beliefs. I require proof just as any reasonable man... But..." he trailed off and glanced down at Grey Wind, running his fingers through the slate fur of his wolf. "I have been seeing things in my dreams... Rickon and Bran tell me that they can see through the eyes of their wolves in their sleep."

Jon knew of what Robb was describing and was reminded immediately of the conversation he'd had with Jaena on the Wall. All the Stark children are Wargs. "You were Warging," Jon told him. Of this magic, he knew. Now that he acknowledged it, he felt rather stupid for doubting that any other magic could not exist. However, seeing or experiencing was believing.

"Have you done the same with Ghost?" Robb inquired, glancing at the pale dire wolf.

"From time to time. Mostly when he was hunting far north of the Wall," Jon admitted. "But I don't possess the control that talented Wargs do. There were wildlings that I met who could do it at will."

"Did any of those wildlings come with you?"

"Unfortunately not... but I am aware of some who may be among the number settling into the Gift."

"Perhaps we can send for one. Any insight into how to utilize these abilities properly would be useful," Robb remarked thoughtfully, keenly accepting Jon's words. "And to think just a few years ago all of this would have just been tales of Old Nan."

Jon gave a weak smile. "I wish they still were and maybe we'd still have the whole family."

"Yes..." Robb glanced back at the graves and then cleared his throat.

"Perhaps there is another place we may speak? I do not wish to disturb the dead any further," Jon suggested, feeling a heavy weight upon him as they continued to stand between Sansa and Eddard's statues.

"The Godswood," Robb nodded, Grey Wind taking point before the brothers trailed after the wolf, heading back to the surface.

Even if going to Winterfell came at the cost of his father and sister's deaths, he felt oddly comfortable being beside Robb again. It was not the same in the slightest. Before they had just been boys, but now there was an unspoken understanding. Together, they would prepare for what was to come and lean upon another for support. Despite fighting Jaena about his pardon, Jon did not think he could have felt more at home than he did beside Robb.

Winterfell felt so much warmer than the Wall, toasted by the natural springs. When they entered the Godswood, it was strange seeing such a verdant slice of paradise among the frosty north. He had nearly forgotten what it had been like, the light of the sky blotted out by the canopies of the dense trees. They passed maples and oaks, finding the heart tree weeping over an obsidian pool. Jon felt as if he could see the misty spectre of his father polishing Ice at its feet, but the image was disturbed as a gentle wind sent ripples across the mirror like surface of the pool.

"Winterfell has changed," Jon said, wondering how to build to the topic he wished to discuss with Robb.

"It has. I've had a lot of help among my counselors. I may not have Vayon Poole, but Maester Lewin and Lady Jaena had shared with me their wealth of knowledge in topics I never bothered to dally in. Who knew how important trade and tariffs would become. I never believed that Winterfell would become a temporary trading hub."

"Speaking of which," Jon drawled. "Lady Jaena Velaryon... Brother, why do you trust her?"

Until this point, Robb had been rather pleasant. Heavy was the burden of the crown on his brow, but he wore it well thus far. Yet, at these words, Robb's brow crinkled and he scowled at Jon. "I trust her with my life."

"But why? She's a southron... one with dragon blood, on the opposite side of the war as our father. How do you know that she won't turn that dragon on you after the Long Night has been defeated? What comes after this?" he borrowed the notion of after the Long Night from Jaena.

"Clearly, in the time that she was at the Wall, you did not take that time to acquaint yourself with her. Everything that Lady Jaena has done up until this point has been for Winterfell, has been for the North, has been for the people of Westeros. She even had her own family travel north and abandon Driftmark to join us. They abandoned their ancestral home to support House Stark. Father and Sansa would have never been delivered to us either if not for her connections. It was _her _allies that attempted to ferret them out of King's Landing.

"The North gave her a dragon and she has not forgotten that. Even if you believe that most southrons do not have honor, I can assure you that the Velaryons do. _The Old, the True, the Brave_... And until they prove otherwise, your doubts do nothing but unsettle me. Jaena has been devoting her time to making certain that the Wall is prepared. It was she who told of the Others and the Long Night, it was she who suggested men and supplies be given to the Night's Watch. I may get credit for these actions, but they were not my ideas."

Robb was vehement, Jon could see the fury lining his face as Jaena was questioned. It was true, Jon did not know her, and Robb had been with her for some time now. Still, she knew the words that only Ygritte had spoken to him. He was unsettled by her deep knowledge of everything going on and she was equipped with a dragon as well. He just wished that Robb wasn't so haphazardly attached to her... but he knew why. While the reason Robb had given were viable, Jon could tell from how defensive Robb immediately became that he had feelings toward her.

Jaena had promised she would not marry Robb, but perhaps she was lying or did not know herself. If Robb did marry her, he married a powerful woman. She possessed one of the four living dragons. Even if Jon was dubious of her, that sort of power would solidify the North's sovereignty.

"Tread lightly brother. I just do not want you to be played by a pretty face-"

"Do not try and belittle me or my feelings. My trust has only grown in the time I have known her. You speak as if you're above such and I know that's not true," Robb snapped.

Jon felt the sting of his words, wondering if Robb really knew the full enmity of his experience among the wildlings. "I did what I had to do."

"And I wasn't questioning your decisions. What you have done has given us more allies to fight the Long Night. But do not talk down to me as if you are the more pious one. We have both changed in the years since we parted paths and it will take you time to adjust to how Winterfell operates. My feelings for Lady Jaena are only your concern if they jeopardize the North and as far as I am concerned, she and her family have sacrificed everything to support House Stark."

"And what cost does the support of the Velaryons come at?"

"House Velaryon has never forgotten what King Robert did to the Targaryens and sympathizes with what happened to our father and sister. Jaena may not be the Lord of Driftmark, but her father, Monford, supports her and her decision. He backs his daughter, who backs Winterfell because of the impending threat of the Long Night. Where Lady Jaena decides to go after is not my decision, but I intend on showing her and her family gratitude for all that they have risked and lost in coming here."

Jon still did not quite comprehend what they were settling for. They had given up their seat in Driftmark to come to Winterfell. The idea was preposterous to him, but he supposed if he had a daughter with a dragon, he might flock to her side as not to become a target of other lieges and kings. The Velaryons going North was to avoid prosecution from King Robert. If they could return to Driftmark one day, they would, if not, Robb would need to give them land on the coast.

"Jon," Robb broke the small bit of silence that had crept between them. "I value your opinion, but trust me on the topic of the Velaryons..." he reached into his pocket and withdrew a small item, approaching Jon with it. "There were many other men I could have dubbed with this honor... I even considered Lady Jaena for it, but I decided that when you arrived I would as you. Will you be my Hand?" the brooch flashed in the low light and Jon could not see that it was a Hand of the King pin.

"I may not be allowed to broach on the subject of the Velaryons, but I assure you, there will likely be other topics we do not agree upon," Jon mused, staring at the pendant as if flashed in his brother's hand.

"Which is why I am choosing you. You're family, your place is among the Starks, as a Stark," Robb told him clearly, pressing the brooch into Jon's hand. "You shall be Jon Stark from now on."

"Are you certain that your mother will like that?" Jon pointed out, opening his palm to stare at it. This was the same offer his father had been given, but unlike King Robert, he and Robb were bound by blood. They were brothers. There had been a time when Jon had dreamed about being equal in status to Robb, but even if he acknowledged him as a true Stark, all it did was wipe away the blemish of Snow. Jon would not inherit anything from being named a Stark.

"You are a Stark. Rightfully so," Robb insisted.

"What you might feel does not necessarily make it true."

"Jon... At one point, father promised you he would eventually tell you who your mother was, didn't he?" Robb inquired.

Jon nodded slowly, wondering where this topic was going. Now the promise Ned had given was but words on the wind. His death had taken away the knowledge of discovering who his mother was.

"He might not have been able to tell you in person, but before his passed, his last words were about you Jon. He told someone who your mother was... And your father too," Robb paused to gaze at the heart tree, a wistful smile touched his lips as he strode toward it. He placed his hand on the ivory bark, leaning toward it. "You were always like a brother to me, Jon. But the truth is we're cousins and father protected your by saying you were his bastard son. If Robert had known who your parents were, he would have had you killed."

Jon took a tentative step toward him, his mind reeling with possibilities. Eddard was not his father? For what reason would he keep this a secret from everyone? Why wouldn't he have told Catelyn? Perhaps she might have been kinder to him if he wasn't Ned's bastard. But cousin... cousin... Ned's brother had died before having any children, unless he'd harbored a bastard before the war, but the timeline didn't match up.

"Aunt Lyanna," Robb turned to gaze at Jon with his clear, Tully blue eyes. "I always wondered how she had died in that tower. It was not from a grievous wound, but in childbirth... Your birth Jon."

A war waged in honor of Lyanna, for Lyanna, and Jon was her son. However, that didn't settle him completely. "But if that's the case, I'm still a bastard. Perhaps not a Snow..."

"But you're not. Maester Lewin wrote to the Citadel. They keep records of marriage between nobles and royalty. Prince Rhaegar Targaryen annulled his marriage with Elia Martell and married Lyanna under the Faith of the Seven. The entire premise of the war, the abduction, or as Robert saw it... It was all wrong. Lyanna loved Rhaegar, she ran away with him only for Robert to hunt them down and begin a rebellion.

"I assume when father found Lyanna and she explained this to him, bleeding out from childbirth, he had only one way to protect you, even if it shattered his honor. Father never cheated on Catelyn and you were never a bastard, but he did it to protect you. Robert would have never accepted the fact that Lyanna did not love him and that her affection toward Rhaegar was real. Instead he monsterized Rhaegar, proclaimed that he had abducted and raped her, which in turn, caused an uproar from the Targaryens in the crownlands.

"Perhaps more Starks would still be living. But, reminiscing on what could have been is a waste of time and I've already addled my brain with it for a time now. Jon... You have the blood of the North and South in you; dragon and wolf. You have more right to the Iron Throne than anyone."

Jon listened, but as the conversation came to a head he didn't like where it ended. He knew that Robb had not chosen his crown and Jon did not wish to be forced into one. "I don't want a throne, especially the Iron Throne. I will take the Stark name, but if we could keep this information guarded about... my parentage." Eddard Stark might be his uncle by blood, but Jon would continue to call him his father. He had raised him, instilled values, protected him from his best friend for all of these years... To think that Eddard would sacrifice his honor to protect Jon was astonishing. People had always doubted that Ned would cheat on his wife, but Jon had been a dark reminder and there was no denying how much he looked like Ned.

"I assumed you would want as much," Robb smiled wryly. "But if we do survive the Long Night and you do decide that it's the Iron Throne after that... I shall stand behind you. The North will bow to no king again, but we would ally ourselves with one that regards us highly."

"Sorry to disappoint, but I think I'd rather prefer the lofty position as your Hand to being a king any day," Jon informed him stoutly, still careening with the knowledge that he wasn't a bastard, but technically a prince.

"You don't always get to decide," Robb gestured to himself and sighed deeply. "As long as I can, I will guard the information. However, if the tales about the Targaryen in the east are true, then we may need your status as leverage."

"She can have the Iron Throne if she wants it," Jon shrugged nonchalantly.

"The North will not bow to a southron king or queen again, Jon," Robb reminded him sternly.

Jon hoped that the Targaryen girl wouldn't come to Westeros. He recalled Jaena's words; she hoped that Visenya would be large and fast enough to outmatch them, but 3vs1 was not a fair battle. If the time arose where Jon's lineage needed to become public knowledge, he would do it before it got the Velaryon and her dragon killed. He might not trust her entirely, but he couldn't bear to see such a beautiful creature and its rider fight a hopeless battle for the sake of him wanting to keep his head down.

"What are your preparations thus far for the Long Night?" Jon asked Robb, shifting the subject. He would dwell on it more later, but now that he had been named as Robb's Hand, he needed to get up to speed with all the happenings in Winterfell. Much had changed.


End file.
